


Winter's Edge

by Cutewolfboys (Inkforwords)



Series: The Bite of Winter [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Near Death Experience, Pack Dynamics, Panic Attack, Pre-Relationship, Wolf Derek, Wolf Pack, pack as wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkforwords/pseuds/Cutewolfboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles' great Uncle Ben passes away, he inherits a cabin and 100 acres of land. What he didn't expect to get out of the deal was a mysterious wolf with five little cubs roaming around his property. He has a feeling they are definitely more than they seem to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

Stiles pulls up to a stop in front of the cabin and puts the Jeep in park and leans against the steering wheel, looking at the place that now belongs to him. He remembers it being a lot smaller when he visited with his Uncle Ben the last time. He wonders for a moment if he has the right place. But then again, that was back when his mother was alive. When visiting his uncle was a thing to do because Stiles’ mother was Ben’s only niece. The old man had never liked Stiles’ father and Stiles was pretty sure that the guy never liked anyone; Stiles included. His great Uncle Ben only had a soft spot for his mom because she was his kid sister’s only daughter and the only girl of the ten nieces and nephews between the other siblings.

Ben never had any children and had doted on his mom, even into his old age. None of the so called 'estate' went to any of the nephews, Stiles’ older second cousins. There had been an abundance of yelling during the reading of the will, because apparently Ben had been loaded. Stiles' cousins had been angry that they received nothing regarding the land from Ben. More specifically when Stiles alone was given the cabin and the surrounding land, they had all been furious.

But then again it had been intended to be passed to his mother, and well, she was gone now, so it went to him. His cousins received other things, some of Ben’s small fortune, and a few of the older cars he had fixed up during his younger years. But what they had wanted was the land, to sell it and make more money of it. Apparently two of his cousins had been planning it for a long time, thinking of selling the land to some investor and had even had their lawyers try to negate parts of the will, stating Stiles had no claim over any of it. It had been a long and grueling process. Every time his lawyer called he knew he was in store for a headache and it made him dislike his mother’s family more than he already did. He was glad it was over and he could just figure all this out. He wasn't even sure what he was going to do with it.

He sighs and unbuckles himself, pulls the keys out of the ignition and grabs his bag and gets out of the Jeep. The air up here is crisp, clean, and smells like a wonderful Autumn day. He closes the door of the Jeep and stares at the cabin, because this is his now. Completely paid off with nearly 100 acres of land to do with as he sees fit and a cabin that sits in the middle of it. The one he’s currently staring at, which really is much larger than he remembers it being. Ben must have done renovations on it over the years, because there was only one level before and now it looks like there are three. What the hell was he going to do with three floors when it’s just him?

All his college friends are getting married and having kids, he knows none of them want to bring their young ones up here, he doesn’t blame them. But that’s beside the point. He looks around, noticing that everything on the property around here is cleaned up, no clutter, which is good, because he’s never done well with clutter. He was constantly rearranging his room as a teenager when he was unable to focus and just the slightest mess on his desk made it so that he had to clean it up before he worked on something. His desk was usually a mess, given that he was a teen with ADHD, a little spastic and prone to taking more adderall when he shouldn't have. But he still kept everything organized, as his dad would say, his desk was an organized chaos.

When he glances around he swears he hears something rustle in the bushes and when his head twists in the direction of the sound he’s met with only the slight swaying of bushes. He frowns and takes a step towards the bushes, curious to see what’s there, but when he gets a little closer a crow lets out a loud call from behind him and he twists wildly around in alarm, nearly falling over himself.

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his head as he adjusts the strap of his bag with the other. Living out here was going to be different, he was going to have to get used to the noises of the forest around him. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly a loud place, nor was it eerily silent like Stiles had no doubt this place would be at times. He’d spent the last two years of graduate school in Portland and before that he’s been at Berkeley so he wasn’t all that used the quiet anymore. With another sigh he gets his keys out of his pocket and makes his way towards the stairs, heading up them to unlock the padlock the lawyers had put on the door a couple months back when Ben went into the hospital.

Not that the padlock would have stopped his cousins from trying to get into the house. Stiles’ lawyer and Ben’s, who had been in charge of the will, had made it clear that if any of them were caught snooping around the property they would be charged with trespassing and direct violation of the will. They would have had to pay fines or give up whatever Ben had left to them, that was how adamant Ben had been that Stiles get this place. He found it a little odd, but then again Ben had always been a little odd.

The door opens with a groan and he’s met with a giant open living space that smells stale and old, everything covered in a thick layer of dust. He drops his bag to the floor and rubs his hand over his buzzed head once more.

“Well, time to get to work then.” He says and gets to it.

 

\--

 

Almost a week later he’s got mostly everything sorted, the house aired out, dusted, all his uncles’ things that he doesn’t want are packed in boxes and either going to the dump, the shelter, or the salvation army. He had turned on the power, proud of himself that he figured it out and didn't have to call his dad, fixed the leaking faucets and the scrubbed the hell out of the tub with the mold in it. He’s thinking of replacing it, but he has to check his funds, because he really wants to redo the whole bathroom. Ben may have left him this huge piece of land completely paid off, but he didn’t leave Stiles much of that fortune and he’s not exactly a best selling author yet. He even started to tackle the list of things to be fixed that his uncle had left on the fridge before he’d gotten sick.

It wasn't even that hard to start working on the list and Stiles really did enjoy it up here. It was quiet, and comfortable. The weather was wonderful, the air chilly, the temperature dropping low in the night so sometimes he curled up in a chair, wearing his favorite sweatshirt and allowing the cold air to drift around him. The air was crisper, feeling fresher than the air in Beacon Hills. It had that clear coldness to it, like it did before it snowed, and that was one thing he couldn’t wait for. It was one of the reasons he came up to cabin in the first place, to get it ready for the winter. Fall seemed as if it was just starting, but what he really wanted was for the coldness of winter to seep in and take over. He was glad that the will proceedings were over now, since back in July it was seriously looking like the debate on whether or not Stiles was entitled to anything was going to go on for months.

He wanted the cold, the snow, the chance to break out the snow mobiles and do some snowshoeing. Have the smell of hot chocolate and the smoky aroma of burning wood filter through the house. Most of all he wanted to be able to get away from everything and finish his next novel, to be surrounded in his office on all sides by research and old books and half filled coffee cups. He wanted to get as far away from his publicist as possible before she started to breathe down his neck about him making deadlines. Lydia was a goddess among women and not a force to be reckoned with. She could be terrifying and lovely all in one moment and if he didn't hold some special place, albeit a small one, in her heart he would have been skinned alive for skipping out on meetings and not making deadlines years ago.

He chose the large room on the second floor for his office. It had been Ben’s storage room or something close to that. When Stiles had opened the doors he didn't understand why the room had been used for storage because the entire back wall of the room was a large floor to ceiling window that spanned from one wall to the other, looking out over the forest. He had moved his corner desk in, installed his large whiteboards and his cork board up on the remaining walls and set up a couch and coffee table in front of the window for when he needed to think. His books and other things were currently stacked in rows along the floor of the room next to his office, since he needed to make shelves for them.

He was thinking of ripping out the walls and installing inverted wall bookcases, so that he could use the space in the room more efficiently and not as a place to store all his books. But he fully planned on making it a den or small library, maybe add in a few comfortable chairs, a pull out couch, even though the house definitely had enough guest rooms.

His bedroom was on the third floor, the room with the sliding glass doors and little balcony. When he’d found all these wonderful rooms at the house he wondered what Ben was really doing by building all of this when he had no one to live with him. But then that led to Stiles thinking about how he also had this whole large house to himself and no one to share it with. He really didn't want his thoughts to continue down that road.

 

\--

 

Two weeks later he stumbles upon Ben’s notebooks in the garage that documented the areas of land where he had set traps and snares to catch game. Stiles has never been one for trapping, but he’s learned a thing or two over the years and decides it’s a good idea to go check them, disable them and bring home whatever had been caught. If there is anything fresh in them, since it’s been months since Ben died. The chances of anything being in them is slim. He grabs a pack, some supplies, the notebook and maps, a compass, a can of red spray paint and a hunting rifle, extra shells and heads out in search of the first trap.

He finds the first one easily enough. Thankfully, with nothing in it. It’s been years since he’s ‘hunted’ and touched dead game. He doesn't really handle dead animals well, or the fact that sometimes when they are caught in the traps they don’t die instantly. That’s just terrifying and has never sat right with him. He’s okay with fishing, maybe because they are scaly and don’t make noises, but a sickening crunch when you hit them over the head to kill them. When he was six and visiting Ben with mother he’d walked in on Ben cleaning rabbits and he still couldn't get over the sight of watching Ben carving into them. He’d even gone hunting with his father, Allison and her father once. A weekend trip that Stiles had ended up staying in the cabin for the remainder of once he’d heard the loud screech the deer had let out when Chris had loosed an arrow into it’s side. He couldn't even stomach watching Chris put the poor thing out of it’s misery. He felt like a huge disappointment to his father that weekend. And then when he was sixteen, newly driving with his permit, he honestly almost cried when hit a rabbit, his dad lied to him and told him that he hadn't killed, it probably had a concussion. Looking back on that, Stiles appreciated the sentiment, even if he had known the truth.

He crosses the empty traps off his list and marks trees on his path with the red spray paint, so that he can find his way back to the cabin. He has his phone, but he barely gets service out here as it is. The further from the cabin he gets, the worse his service is. It would really suck if he happened to get lost out here one day, 4G be damned, he’d most likely wander in circles for hours. The paths that Ben would frequently use are long grown over. He had been too old to travel further into the land he owned. Stiles knew that eventually he’d have to go to the country offices to get boundary maps so that he could get to marking the edge of the woods where his property started to keep people out.

The next four traps are empty, which he finds odd, because they look to be recently covered and Stiles knows that no one has been out here in months. Ben had died near the end of May, so unless someone had been trespassing on the land, there was no reason for the traps to be covered like they were, and there was no way an animal had done that too them. He frowns as he shakes the spray can, painting an x on the tree nearest trap after he has it disabled. He knows he’ll have to come back the next morning to pick them all up with the atv and trailer, but he wants to get the majority of them disabled and a path set so he knows where to bring the four-wheeler in the morning. As he looked around he also realizes that if he wants to have well worn paths through here, he’s going to have to rework them before the snow come. Another task he’s going to have to add to his to-do list. It seems to be never ending lately, every day he finds something else to add to it.

He checks the map and realizes that he’s got a couple more left, closer to the river. He tucks the can away in the side pocket of his pack and heads off in the direction of the river. The rain had been good that summer, so the ground is soft under his boots as he makes his way to the river bank. He hears the water before he sees it and he checks the map, and walks along the tree line to find the trap. It’s just at the top of the embankment, where there is almost a ten foot drop to the water below. He looks around, but can’t find it. He sighs, lifts the gun strap over his head, and leans it up against the tree. His pack goes next and he carefully walks to the edge of the embankment and grabs onto a sapling to look down into the water.

It looks as though a tree fell and took half of the bank with it into the water and along with all that, took the trap with it, since he can see parts of metal sticking out of the water. “Great, just great.” he says, scrubbing his hand over his head and leans down to lower himself over the side and down. He grips some of the roots and lowers himself to the ground, grumbling when the water laps at his boots and the edges of his pants.

He really should leave it. Everything becomes more complicated when he gets down there and he realizes that the snare is in fact wedged between the roots of the tree. He doesn't want any animals to get hurt on it so he knows he has to at least try to pull it out. He also desperately hopes that there isn’t a dead animal in there, because that’s just… well, something he doesn't want to deal with.

So he starts pulling at it, and very carefully, because while it’s closed he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of those sharp pieces of metal and tries to figures out where the safety lock is. He tugs it a little more, holding onto the one of the larger gnarled roots that is sticking out of the water. Deciding that tugging isn’t the best idea, he realizes that he’s going to have to get a little wet and gets a hand wrapped around the underside of the snare. When he manages to get it half out of the water, he slips on the algae covered rocks and falls forward into the roots of the trees. Pain blossoms in his legs as the roots dig into them and he lets out a yelp of pain.

“Son of a bitch!” he curses and slams his hands down onto the base of the tree in anger. He breathes in and out a few times, trying to calm himself and then reaches down again and finds that the snare has slipped all the way down into the water again and seems have gone further down under the submerged tree trunk. “Well, there is absolutely no hope of getting that now.” he mutters and leans against the base of the tree. Mid-calf and downward is emerged in water and it’s seeping into his boots and it’s going to be one hell of a walk home. With a grunt he pulls himself up onto the base of the tree and begins to pull his pant legs up and he finds that he’s got a few scratches and a couple red marks along the backs of his calves that will certainly turn into bruises tomorrow.

It’s only when he’s checking his other leg that he hears something. Sort of like little growls and yelps. He looks around and spots where the noise is coming from. Across the river on the part of the pebbled river bank. He blinks, wondering if maybe spending the entire day traipsing through the woods has maybe made his head a little foggy, because they look like wolf cubs. A somewhat varied colored spectrum of wolf cubs, but unmistakably wolf cubs.

There are like five of them, from what he can count, two darker brown ones, two almost reddish brown and one light colored almost blonde looking cub. They are splashing in the shallow water of the river. One of the brown ones chasing after the smallest of the group, one of the reddish ones, and when he finally catches up they tumble into the grass, the little reddish one biting at the brown ones ears.

The other reddish one and Stiles really can’t call him that because he’s more of a orangey brown, and has this mask, with grey under his eyes is cuddling up to the blonde one that just nudged herself along his side. The other brown one, the darkest in coloring, is standing on one of the larger stones, almost as if he’s watching over the others, but his ears are perked and he swivels his head around to get a look at the tree line behind them.

Stiles watches as his little body wiggles with excitement and all of them pause with what they are doing, looking towards the brush. That’s when Stiles nearly falls off the log, his breath catching, because a large black wolf emerges from the trees. He’s absolutely huge, and Stiles knows wolves are huge, but this guy, he’s like the Great Dane of wolves. No, scratch that, the deceptacon of wolves, because his eyes are red. And not like he’s got itchy eyes red, like terminator red, like that wolf could shoot laser beams out of his eyes they are that eerily red. It’s unnatural and send a shiver down his spine.

Stiles feels as if he’s stepped into Twilight right now and hopes there aren't going to be any psychotic sparkling vampires emerging from the woods as well. But the cubs are swarming around terminator wolf and they are falling over each other, rubbing against him and trying to lick at his face and he seems to grudgingly accept it. It’s then when the breeze picks up that Stiles realizes he’s downwind of them and his scent will carry towards them.

He can tell the moment that terminator wolf catches his scent, because his entire body stills and his head lifts, ears cocked as he lifts his muzzle into the air and sniffs. Stiles remains as still as he can as those red eyes search and hone in on him in less than a minute. The wolf doesn't do anything but stare, and it’s creepy, because those red eyes are just boring into him.

Stiles gulps and lifts his hand to wave, and seriously wants to throw himself into the river at that, because it’s a damn wolf he’s not going to be waving back. Or even realizing what Stiles is doing. However, Stiles keeps watching and the wolf leans down to nudge at some of the cubs. He noses them towards the woods and their ears lower and their tails tuck between their legs as they disappear into the bushes. He stays though, until the cubs are out of sight and looks at Stiles, with his alarmingly red eyes.

He doesn't seem scared, that much is obvious by his posturing and then Stiles watches as his tail lifts slightly. He’s giving off a warning. Stiles knows this because he’s seen it enough times with the canine unit dogs. They were always a little aggressive though and he, well he doesn't seem aggressive at all. But Stiles knows that wolves live in packs and so there has to be more around there. Specially if there are cubs, and that many well fed cubs must mean that it’s a larger pack.

Stiles watches terminator wolf disappear into the trees and sits on the log for a little longer. He has that niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he’s being watched, but he’s too immersed in his thoughts to care. Forgoing the trap, because he’s definitely not going to get it back in the near future, he climbs back up the bank, grabs his bags and starts back towards the cabin.

When he finally emerges from the trees at the edge of the cleared land around the cabin he goes into the garage and deposits some of his things so that he can dispose of them properly at the dump later and then he gets inside and takes a long hot shower. While he’s showering he thinks about the wolves and Ben’s books, all the notes that fill the pages and decides that he’s going to look for anything concerning the wolves. Because it’s a well known fact that there are no wolves in California.

 

\--

 

The next morning it’s pouring and when he lifts himself up onto his elbows to blearily stare out the window he lets out a groan because he was going to pick up the traps today and there is no way he’s going to trust the four wheeler in this, not with how muddy it was yesterday. He drops down onto the bed and runs his hands over his face, “So much for being productive today.” He mutters.

When he finally gets out of bed he’s standing in the kitchen looking out at the edge of the trees, sipping at his coffee. The rain is pouring down and he can’t really see that well, but he sees a large shape sitting just at the edge of the trees. He practically chokes on his coffee, spitting it all over the counter, wiping at his mouth as he runs to the back door and throws it open. He dashes outside and those red eyes watch every move, and the great big wolf makes no effort to move, just sits there, getting rained on, but his eyes never leave Stiles’.

He realizes then that it was rash of him to run outside, when this huge, massive wolf that definitely hits above his hip is only a good fifty feet from his back porch. The thing could probably clear that distance relatively quickly and Stiles could have his limbs ripped off. Very, very violently ripped off. He gulps in large breath of air, trying and failing to shove down his panic because hey he’s the dumb-ass that just ran outside to get a better look at an enormous fucking wolf on his property.

But the wolf doesn't do anything but stand there and watch him. The rain his soaking him through, his hair plastered to his forehead with drops pooling on his eyelashes, and he blinks as he rubs at his eyes. When his eyes open, the wolf is gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to point out that since Beacon Hills is a fictional town, I based the area off of where Stiles is by glancing at a map of California. I always figured that BH was near Sacramento, so the cabin is a north east of there, between route 50 and 88, in the Eldorado National Forest. I haven't been in that part of California for nearly 15 years, so I have no idea of the land, the forest there, or anything. But since Teen Wolf takes places in a fictional town, I figured I could get away with the cabin being in a slightly fictional area as well. (This was also started way back between the season 2 and season 3a hiatus, when we still had everyone that was from season 2).


	2. The Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a few odd little run ins with the local wildlife. Also a man that may or may not be squatting on his land.

After the previous morning’s incident Stiles decides it’s high time to do some research. There are no wolves in California, or at least there shouldn't be. So having this wolf, with the possibility of there being a large pack, given the cubs, means there are wolves here. And so, off to the library he goes. Two hours back into town is a trip his Jeep isn't very willing to make, he’s lucky he needs to pick up groceries as well.

So that’s why he’s currently sitting at the local library with his laptop in front of him and a bunch of files and books piled next to him on the table. He’s got Ben’s notebook of wildlife that he had documented, mostly bears and birds, the occasional mountain lion or coyote, but nothing about wolves. After a few hours he comes across something in one of the Wildlife of Northern California books. Roughly ten years ago a wolf was spotted by a few people. A male gray wolf, who had been making his way down from a pack in Washington that had most likely cast him out.

Researches collared him, tracked him for a while and eventually went in tranquilized him and brought him back north to keep him safe, since people had threatening to shoot him on sight, even out of wolf hunting season. Stiles read on, but there was nothing else concerning wolf sightings since then. And when he did search wolf sightings, mostly what came up were articles about a wolf that had been dubbed Romeo, a dog-friendly wolf that lived on the outskirts of an Alaskan town. Apparently the wolf, like his namesake did not have a happy ending.

As far as Stiles could tell according to the California Wildlife Conservation, they hadn't been out since 2008 to document, or at least those were the most recent files. And now it was 2012, so they had four years of no information.

“Wonderful.” He mutters, dropping his head onto the table with a groan. He was nowhere near obtaining information than he had been hours ago. But he couldn't stay any longer, he needed to start heading back because the rain hadn’t let up yet and he really didn't want to drive back through the mountains with his Jeep in the dark and the pouring rain. It would have been a recipe for disaster.

So he scans what he can without the librarian noticing, hops over to the town offices to grab property maps of his land, goes to the grocery store and heads home.

\--

He doesn't go back to the river, but instead wanders around his land aimlessly, trying to figure out where he want to start attempting to make paths. He’s got his backpack, a few maps tucked into one of the pockets and a hunting rifle with tranquilizer darts in them, just in case. Why Ben had those, he really doesn’t want to know, but he’s glad for them being there.

Being a Sheriff’s kid he’s known how to shoot for years, he went every weekend in high school to the shooting range with his friend Allison once they learned that the other could shoot. She’d taught him how to use a bow and while he wasn't as good with that, it was still fun.

He shakes off the thoughts of high school and the lovely Allison Argent that could have kicked his ass with her hands tied behind her back, because the fog is pretty thick. He’s not as familiar with the land as he would like to be and travelling around in the fog this thick is probably not the best of ideas. But he’s determined to find these wolves.

Sticking to the path he had vaguely followed yesterday and follows the marks he had made on the trees just a few days before he starts to head back to the river. Instead of going up to the high bank though, he cuts off the path to his right, down the incline and to the where the bank becomes level with the pebbles and rocks of the river bed. He looks for a place to cross and starts downriver in hopes of finding it to be a little shallower so he can cross somewhere that allows his boots and pants to remain dry.

The little shore eventually ends and he’s forced up onto the bank again, roughly two feet above the water. He’s climbing over a fallen tree, pulling himself up and over the huge base when he hears a bit of splashing, like something moving around in the water. He stops and cocks his head to the side to listen, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from, if it is behind him, where he just was, or further ahead of him.

The fog is still ridiculously hard to see through and he can’t even make out the river through it or anything about 15 feet in front of him. He carefully swings his legs over the log, careful not to make too much noise and walks along, avoiding crunching too many leaves under his feet. He gets to a couple trees on the edge of the bank and grips them so that he doesn't fall and scans the area, trying hard to see through the fog. He can still hear movement in the water, as if someone is wading through it against the current.

 

He squints and looks across the river, trying to see if whoever it is, is on the other side. Holding onto one of the trees, he lowers himself down the bank, boots sinking into the shallow water there. He hears the splashing stop and stills, his entire body going tense. After a few minutes he walks a few feet into the water as it sloshes around his boots and strains to hear something, anything.

There is rustling ahead of him and splashing, like someone is now running through the water. Stiles runs through the river, water soaking his pants, but he makes it to the other side of the river, his backpack and gun bouncing against his back. He lets out a breath and scans the shore, his eyes lingering briefly on the tracks near the water, boot prints, ones that aren’t his, judging by the imprint and the fact that he hasn’t been across river yet. He spots broken branches and follows them, running into the brush.

Pushing through the branches he runs, following the sounds of someone running ahead of him and stops suddenly, because his brain catches up with him in his urgent need to find out who is out there. He has no idea what he’s chasing, whether it be a deer, that massive wolf or something else and he’s really going into this blind. He’s knows he’s never been one to think things through, the amount of shit he got himself into in high school is enough to go by, and he’s not about to get ravaged by a wolf if that is what he’s chasing after.

He stops and listens, doesn't hear the sound of whatever it was running anymore and wonders if it’s stopped. He still can’t make out anything more than 15 feet from him and he reaches one hand up, his fingers stroking over the gun strap. He’s about to swing it over his shoulder and continue on when something crashes through the trees ahead of him.

Not a deer, not a wolf, but a man. Stiles freezes and blinks, wondering if the fog is playing a trick on him, because there is a half naked man standing there, panting heavily. His head swivels around and when he catches sight of Stiles his eyes widen in alarm and his face contorts into a look of absolute horror. Stiles stares, fingers tightening on the strap, he opens his mouth to say something and the guy bolts.

“Hey!” Stiles yells, scrambling after him, but the guy is off, zigzagging through the trees and Stiles can barely keep up, which is saying something since he ran track in college. “This is private property!” Stiles yells, running after him. He sees the guy veer sharply to left and cuts left, through the trees after him. He stumbles a little, when his boots catch on some roots, hands going out and he barely manages to catch himself on a tree. He sees the guy slow down, looking back at Stiles.

Stiles is about to open his mouth to say something when a howl floats through the woods, and Stiles watches as the guys’ head snaps in the direction of the howl. Stiles stills, because that is exactly what he needs right now, those wolves showing up. When he looks back at the guy, he glances back at Stiles with a swift jerk of his head, eyeing him before running off and disappearing into the fog.

He lets out a long winded sigh and sags against the tree briefly, rubs at his eyes, wondering what the hell is going on around here. First wolves on his land and now half naked men, Ben hadn't been gone that long. Getting himself righted, he heads back in the direction he came because he doesn't want to continue on in this fog, not with the howl he’d heard, even if he’s pretty sure it was just a young one, he doesn't want to take the chance of something sneaking up on him in this.

That night he dreams of a black shadow following him through the forest, a man with dark hair, and glowing red eyes.

\--

What he finds over the next few days is that the wolves are nowhere to be found and neither is the man. The rain has washed away all evidence of him being near the river. He has no qualms about crossing it and wondering if he’s going off his land. He has posters and a staple gun in his pack as well as lunch, heavy waterproof boots, thick socks, a few of his property maps and a GPS on his phone as he walks through the forest. He also has the hunting rifle slung over his shoulder and tranquilizers in his pack, just in case.

He’s putting up privacy posters and no hunting signs so that hunters don’t start coming onto his land since it will be hunting season soon. He’d heard some gun shots about two weeks ago and he really doesn't want to have his dad call in a favor to the local state troopers. He also doesn't want to cause any trouble with that guy, hoping that he is just a straggler or something. But once he sees the signs maybe he’ll get the idea and take off, if he hadn’t already.

He knows Ben hunted here, but that was when it was his land, and Stiles really isn't one for hunting, or other people hunting on his land. He prefers his meat already dead, preferably prepackaged from the grocery store, thank you very much. The whole process of draining the blood, skinning and just… he’s getting nauseous just thinking about it.

So he trails along the edge of his property lines, weaving between trees and stapling up the posters. Now that the rain has let up he’ll be able to finally get the traps and put them into the large dumpster that he rented. There were plenty of things around the cabin that needed disposing of and it was more efficient to rent a dumpster then make multiple trips to the dump.

As he’s posting a ‘no hunting’ sign he hears branches snap behind him and he pauses, the staple gun pressing into the bark, but he doesn't press down and his whole body tenses. When he turns his head to look around he finds nothing there, but the hair on the back of his neck stands up. He can feel something watching him, but nothing is there and he remembers the black wolf on the edge of his yard not too long ago and shudders. He hears the rustle of the leaves and looks around again, and sure enough there is a dark shape moving through the trees not 50 feet from him.

He freezes immediately, wondering if it’s the wolf. He knew the wolf had been huge, but this looked bigger and he didn't dare move to get a closer look. But he can hear it and within about 30 seconds he comes to the conclusion that’s not actually terminator wolf, but a black bear. It’s clumsy, making a lot of noise as it moves through the brush. He realizes it’s probably hungry. He swears to himself in his head at bringing food with him. He can see it more clearly now, and yep, totally a bear. Panic wells up in his stomach and he carefully lowers his arms and tries to back away. He knows it’s stupid, because if the bear hasn't seen him, he really shouldn't draw attention to himself, but he really likes his limbs. Like, a lot.

As he moves backwards he stumbles, because honestly, that’s his life. He curses himself as he lands on his ass and groans, quickly scrambling. The strap of the gun sliding off his shoulder and clatters to the ground, it startles the bear and Stiles smacks the ground with both hands as the bear’s head swivels in his direction. “Oh fuck.” He mutters and is about to get up, but the bear is ambling towards him and Stiles really wishes he wasn't so damn clumsy.

He scrambles backwards and comes up against the trunk of a tree and presses himself against it as the bear gets closer, hands stinging as they scrape against the bark. Just as he starts thinking about how he’s going to die a terrible death by being ripped apart by a bear and no one will find his body until the winter is over a dark shape comes out of nowhere, literally out of nowhere and is landing in front of him, a black mass of snarling fur and sharp teeth.

It’s the wolf, Stiles realizes with horror and it’s snapping at the bear, lunging at it and Stiles clings to the tree, only able to watch because he knows he shouldn't do anything else. There really isn’t much he can do with his gun out of reach anyway. The bear roars back, but is moving away and Stiles watches as the wolf stalks forward, head lowered, growling loudly, snapping his teeth until the bear turns tail and runs. The wolf watches him go and Stiles lets out a long, shuddering breath and sinks against the tree in relief.

When the wolf turns, agonizingly slow, his red eyes are glaring at Stiles. Stiles lets out shaky laugh and rubs one hand over his shorn hair. “Uh, thanks?” He says and the wolf’s lips lift and he growls.

Stiles holds out his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. But yeah, totally grateful buddy. So, thanks.” Stiles says and decides that not moving is still a good idea. The wolf turns fully around now and is facing him, his eerie red eyes staring at Stiles. Stile gulps and lowers his hands as the wolf just stares at him. He’s fairly certain he reeks of fear.

It very suddenly becomes awkward. If having a wolf staring at you can be considered awkward, but seems to be the thing that’s happening at the moment. As if the wolf is waiting for him to do something and Stiles really has no intention of moving, because he doesn't trust the wolf to not rip a limb off. He’s massive and it’s so much more terrifying up this close. He looks the wolf up and down and thinks that maybe the wolf’s shoulder goes up to his chest, and Stiles is 5’11”. His canines alone look about the size of Stiles’ pinky. And if his sheer size wasn’t all that alarming, the fact that his teeth can rip through bone certainly is.

But the wolf continues to stare at him and Stiles’ eyes dart for the gun, the wolf’s eyes follow and his lips pull back, revealing those large white teeth. Stiles swallows loudly and holds his hands up again. “I’m not- I won’t.” He says softly and the wolf looks back at him, Stiles remains absolutely still.

“I just want the gun and I’ll go home. You can go do…whatever it is you do…” Stiles says and motions to the gun and the Wolf just lets out a low growl, slowly backs up and disappears into the trees. Stiles scrambles for the gun and all but runs back to the cabin, not sure if he’s imagining the wolf following him or if he’s actually being chased home. All he knows is that he can’t hear anything other than the pounding of his own heart.

\--

When Stiles gets home he locks all the doors, pulls the curtains closed and stands under the hot spray of his shower until the water runs cold. He realizes while he’s got the water running down his back, his forehead pressed against the glass that he was almost mauled by a bear. But a wolf saved him. A wolf with red eyes, that is nearly as tall as him. He lets out a hysterical laugh that turns into a choked off sob and sinks down to the bottom of the shower, dropping his head against his knees because he was almost mauled by a bear today.

He dries himself off after his little moment of hysteria in the shower, pulls on sweats and one of his ex Danny’s old sweaters and heads for his office. The floors are cold under his feet and he moves quickly, wanting the warmth of the rug in his office under his feet. He throws himself onto the couch and just lays there for a little while. He wonders if these wolves are even real or the mountain air is getting to him, or he’s so deep into creating a new world for his book that he’s imagining things.

“Pull it together Stilinksi,” He mumbles and rubs his hands over his face, palming his eyes. He lets out a sigh and when he moves his hands he glances over at his laptop, knowing he should at least try to get some writing done tonight. Lydia wants to have a conference call with him tomorrow and he’s nowhere near being where she expects him to be.

It’s only then, seeing some of the scanned pages from the wolf books sticking out of the folder and falling off his coffee table does he realize that he’s an idiot. He launches himself at his laptop, pulling it into his lap and flipping it open, clicking almost violently at the Google chrome button and shaking his head at his own stupidity as he types in ‘wolf sightings in California’. He really doesn't know why he hadn't thought of this while in the library instead of looking through outdated books and magazines.

He finds a few sites and forums, one for the Beacon Hills Reserve and one that has people talking about sightings they've had of wolves. Most of them are crap, people talking about animals they've seen, thinking they are wolves when they are really just dogs or coyotes. One person even posted some pictures of one of the ‘wolves’ in their yard and Stiles just stares at it blankly, not even catching himself when he mutters a “that’s a coyote, you moron.”

He’s surprised to find a couple in his general area and by that he means there are at least two sightings in Beacon Hills over the last five years, one at least has a photo. A quick camera phone shot, but the image is blurry and he can only make out a dark shape that the person claims is a wolf. The second account is dated about two years ago, one of the more recent ones and it seriously has Stiles doubting for the sanity of some people. It was talking about werewolves being real and how they were right in Beacon Hills and no one noticed.

Then there are comments attached to it, telling the person, this “K.A.” to get some help and that werewolves didn't exist and they should probably stop reading trashy teen novels. Stiles laughs at a couple of the entries of people calling the person insane and bashing the Twilight series. However, he can’t help the chill that goes down his spine at the mention of werewolves and all he can imagine are those glowing red eyes watching from the darkness of the forest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and I fought so hard guys. I still hate it. But it's not going to be any better than it is. If you guys would like to see what the Cabin actually looks like, here you go!  
> (http://cutewolfboys.tumblr.com/post/39099720079/nearly-done-with-editing-the-next-chapter-of). 
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and the comments! They really mean a lot. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Happy New Year!


	3. The Facts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always forget that most of you guys who are reading this don't know where the idea for this stemmed from. Basically I've got a whole bunch of fanart on my tumblr and the story originated from that. The cubs will be revealed with their names in the next chapter which is an Interlude in Derek's POV and Stiles will learn who they are in the following chapter. It's a bit confusing in this chapter, with there being five of them, but I promise it wont be too confusing after this one!

It’s early morning when his phone begins blaring the main cords from The Dark Knight and he jerks up and right over the edge of the couch. He barely misses cracking his head on the coffee table as he goes down. He groans into the rug and reaches up onto the coffee table, blindly searching for his phone, wraps his fingers around it and brings it to his ear after jabbing his thumb at the screen.

‘’lo” He grumbles, resting his cheek on the rug as he tries to kick at the blanket wrapped around his legs.

“You better have something for me Stilinski or I might just have to come find where you’ve holed yourself up this time.” A sickly sweet voice says from the other end.

“Lydia,” He groans, he absolutely does not whine at her. He can hear her flipping her hair in agitation and imagines her looking at her nails, waiting for an answer. “Do you know how busy I’ve been?” he says, immediately regretting the words as they leave his mouth.

“I know how busy you should be, writing the sequel to your last book.” She says and he closes his eyes and counts to three. “But I suppose your career just doesn’t matter to you, now that you’ve got a shiny new cabin and a forest to tromp around in. It’s as if you don’t have loyal readers waiting for a new book or anything.”

Stiles winces and manages to lift himself up on one arm, tucking the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he untwists the blanket wrapped around his legs. Lydia continues onward with her speech of how he’s a worthless writer. How he’s never going to find someone if he continues to go hide under his writing or in the woods like a mountain man. He’s heard it before and while that first time it had hurt him a little, that was years ago, he has long since learned that this is her way of telling him, in her roundabout way, that she cares.

“Are you even listening to me?” She says, exasperated. He nods then realizes she can’t see him and he mutters a quick yes.

“Of course I am.” He says and lifts himself up, now that he’s got the blanket unwrapped from around his legs and plops himself down on the couch.

“Then what did I say?” She asks and Stiles groans.

“Look Lydia, I’ll get you something soon, alright?” Stiles murmurs, running his hands through his hair when he looks over at the stack of paper that is only half of what his manuscript should be and then to the whiteboards that are covered in notes he had made late one night when he couldn’t sleep. Although they’re notes that have nothing to do with the novel that Lydia is waiting for.

“You better.” She says and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the other line disconnect. He drops his head into his hands and glances back at the board. His notes are on the wolf, the size of it, wondering if it’s a hybrid or something else entirely. He has direwolf and A Song of Ice and Fire written next to it with a question mark.

That afternoon, after Stiles had forced himself to work for a few hours he found himself walking around the land, his hands in his pockets. He’s going upriver, heading in a different direction than he had the previous days. As he walks he hears a some twigs snap behind him and then swirls around, eyes wide, wondering what he’s in for this time.

When a rabbit darts across the path he groans loudly and rubs his hand over his head. “Christ,” he murmurs and turns around, shoving his hand into his pockets again. He walks on, somewhat slowly and keeps thinking about the wolf and the young guy he had come across.

Suddenly something skitters across the path in front of him, a blur of fur that is too large to be a rabbit and his breath catches in his throat. Something crashes through the bushes after it and then stops and Stiles stills almost immediately.

The wolf cub tumbles to a stop, nearly falling over himself and then lowers himself to the ground, his ears flattening and his tail tucking between his legs. Stiles swallows nervously and slowly lowers himself to the ground, because he’s been around puppies before, he knows that sometimes they are shy and are too afraid when the person is so high up.

He kneels on the ground, knees crunching the dead leaves, he sits still as the pup lets out a low whine. “It’s okay little guy, I’m not going to hurt you.” Stiles says softly and tilts his head to smile without teeth, another thing he had learned from being around police dogs. Stiles recognizes this one, he was one of the cubs from the river bank. He’s a dark brown with a lighter brown around his muzzle and belly, the same color above his eyes and two dark spots merging over the bridge between his eyes, making his eyes seem darker.

His eyes are what catch Stiles’ attention, they are a brilliant gold and he vaguely recalls that most young animals are born with deep blue eyes and keep them for some time. But then again this one looks to be much older than Stiles had originally thought. He blinks, to clear his thoughts and turns back to the cub in front of him. He holds out one hand and the cub hesitates but inches forward, seemingly curious.

A yip startles both of them, the cub jumping up, his fur bristling and Stiles yanks back his hand. The cub that had run across the path before this one sticks his head out of the bushes and gives another yip. Stiles wonders if the way the one in front of him whines, if the second one is reprimanding him. The second one is another from the other day, his fur a tawny brown, with an orange tint to it. He has a grey and cream colored mask around his vibrantly blue eyes.

Stiles stares at him as he hesitantly comes out of the bushes, tail tucked between his legs and then gasps in surprise when he feels something wet brush his finger tips. He glances down and finds the little dark one sniffing at his fingers, tongue darting out to lick them.

“Hi there.” Stiles says, slowly lifting his hand, pausing when the cub stills, eyeing it warily, Stiles wiggles his fingers and the cub brushes up against them. The second one comes over, a little more hesitantly and sniffs at Stiles’ other hand and then at his knees and makes a noise in the back of his throat, almost like a whine and nudges the little dark one. They lean against each other, making happy grumbling noises and rubs their cheeks against his fingers, the darker one vibrating happily when Stiles scratches behind his ears.

“Yeah, see. I’m a good guy.” Stiles murmurs and when a howl cuts across through the trees the cubs pull away almost immediately and Stiles feels a shiver roll down his spine. The cubs scamper away, back the way that they had come and Stiles watches them go, getting the distinct feeling he’s being watched.

\--

The next morning when Stiles goes down into the kitchen he knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but he can’t help but shout in alarm when he sees the massive black wolf sniffing around the barn. He ducks down almost immediately, his heart beating wildly and he presses himself against his cabinets, trying to regain his breathing and steady his heartbeat.

“You’re inside Stiles, he’s outside. He can’t get you.” Stiles murmurs to himself, running his hand over his head, trying to shove the panic away.

This wolf is starting to freak him out, it is definitely smarter than he thought. He knew wolves were smart, but most of the time they humans, or so he had read. His own interest in the wolf cubs and this massive wolf is beginning to become a bit unhealthy. It doesn’t stop him though. He slowly gets up and peeks out the window, and sure enough the wolf is still there, by the barn. Instead of looking around and sniffing around the side, he’s looking straight in through the window, at Stiles.

Stiles blanches and then scrambles to the door, wrenching it open and practically throwing himself outside. He should have learned from high school that he always runs head first into things without thinking them through. Right now is no different. He only realizes how stupid he’s been when the wolf looks up at him, red eyes almost narrowing, the cold from the grass seeping into his feet and he makes an alarming noise in the back of his throat.

When the wolf walks towards him Stiles throws his hands up, in a placating manner and backs up slowly. “Look, I uh…I don’t mean any harm alright.” Stiles says and bites his lip, mentally cursing himself because he’s talking to a wolf. This really seems to be his life now and it’s kind of terrifying.

“You need to stop.” Stiles says and when the wolf halted his advance, Stiles falters, words cutting off almost abruptly to watch as the wolf cocks his head to the side, ears twitching. “Uh.. Following me, or watching me. Or whatever it is you’re doing. It’s creepy.” Stiles says and runs a hand over his head again and when the wolf gives him a look and chuffs, his breath misting into the cool air, Stiles laughs and it might be a bit hysterical.

“I'm talking to a wolf. This is great, really. I’m going insane.” Stiles says as he laughs and rubs at his face. When Stiles glances at the wolf again he finds that he’s gotten a little bit closer and Stiles wants to take a step back, because he doesn’t know what’s happening right now. Is he considered prey? Is the wolf stalking him, waiting for Stiles to lower guard just enough for it to attack? He thinks it doesn’t even need to wait for that. It could maul him right here and now and Stiles wouldn’t have any way to stop it. When he takes another step back, he connects with the side of the house and he lets out a pitiful, distressed moan.

“This is the opposite of what I want. You coming closer, seriously you’re huge. Do you even know you’re not the size of a normal wolf. You’re like terminator or something with the red eyes. Oh God, you’re like a freaking dire wolf, like Ghost from Game of Thrones.” Stiles mumbles and he swears that the wolf rolls his eyes as he slowly inches forward. His ears are pulled back and Stiles just presses himself up against the house, wishing desperately he was closer to the door, so he could just twist the handle and slip inside, lock the door and wait until the wolf was gone so he could leave his house.

“I’m going to die. There is a Red Riding Hood joke here somewhere, I’m sure of it, I just can’t think of them right now because I’m too terrified to find this funny.” Stiles says, and really he knows that his brain to mouth filter is in overdrive right now, because talking seems to lessen the thoughts of ‘oh shit I’m going to be ripped apart by this massive wolf that keeps getting closer to me’. It also keeps him from nearly pissing himself in fear, his hands gripping the side of the house.

When the wolf gets about three feet from him Stiles breathes out an “Oh my God.” He keeps as still as possible. The wolf leans close, nostrils flaring as he inhales and then steps forward, sniffing at Stiles’ shirt. When the wolf makes a noise in the back of his throat, almost a growl, but Stiles isn’t too sure. He’s not fluent in wolf language.

The wolf noses at his shirt and Stiles’ breath cuts off in his throat and his heartbeat is thudding in his ears. “Please don’t eat me.” he squeaks and the wolf snorts again, eyes glancing up. They are almost calculating, if red eyes could be categorized as that, but they aren’t as eerie up close as they are far away. Stiles figures he must smell the cubs on his clothes, because this morning he’d just thrown on the shirt from yesterday before going downstairs.

Before he even realizes he’s doing it, one hand is slowly reaching out, his fingers wanting to curl into the soft fur on the wolf’s neck. The wolf sees the movement, because in an instant a growl is rumbling in his chest and he’s backing away from Stiles, who quickly snatches his hand away.

“S-sorry.” Stiles says quickly, shoving his hands behind him. “I won’t… I uh. Yeah, sorry.” He says, watching as the wolf watches him carefully, but doesn’t make an effort to leave. The wolf stares at him and they have some weird staring contest before the wolf chuffs again and turns to jog away, disappearing into the forest. Stiles lets out a shaky breath, leans against the side of the house, and tries to calm his rapid heartbeat.

 

\--

The next time he leaves the house to go out into the forest is a few days after the black wolf had come to his yard. He’d spent a few days mulling over exactly what had happened and what it meant for him and for his land. He had come to conclusion that he really didn’t know what would happen if the wolf actually attacked him. He couldn’t really merit calling what happened to be an attack, because it hadn’t been. He had gone to the library that afternoon to get out as many books as possible on wolf behavior and had spent the last few days reading up on it. He’s completely stopped working on his book for now. He can’t concentrate with the weird dreams he’s been having about overly large black wolves with red eyes. He’d had one last night where the wolf had somehow gotten into his house. He could hear the soft click of claws against the hardwood floor.

He woke up in a cold sweat, hearing something downstairs. He’d gone down to find one of the windows cracked and could not remember having left it open. He kept the shotgun in his room after that, keeping the gun his bed and shells in his bedside table.

 

Basically, from the reading he’d done he figured out that wolves were curious creatures and that they weren’t the blood thirsty animals that people had always portrayed them to be. But this wolf’s interactions with him weren’t exactly normal. It was definitely stalking behavior but it wasn’t malicious or at least he figured it wasn’t.

It had snowed during the night, just a light dusting, but enough that he could see footprints in the snow. It’s a lot easier for him to track the animals and so far he’s come across rabbit tracks, a couple deer and squirrels. Thankfully no bear tracks, for which he is extremely grateful. That one he’d come across was probably hibernating now anyway, or so he’d hoped.

When he gets to the area where he had come across the wolf cubs just last week he keeps an eye out for paw prints and sure enough, after about ten minutes he finds some and follows them in the direction they are heading. He knows that he shouldn’t be following them, but he can’t help himself.

He hears a rustling behind him and turns to see a little head poking out of the bushes and smiles, slowly crouching down. It’s one of the cubs from the other day, the darker one that had first come up to him.

“Hey there little buddy.” Stiles says and reaches into his pocket to pull out a bag of treats. The cub’s ears perk and he sniffs the air when Stiles opens the ziplock bag full of pieces of chicken. The cub edges forward and Stiles tosses a little treat to him, watching as he sniffs at it and then quickly scoops it up and chews it almost happily before getting closer. Stiles holds a piece in his hand and the cub comes forward, sniffing curiously as his fingers before he gently takes the piece of chicken. Stiles smiles and reaches out with his other hand to gently touch at the cub’s ears. Stiles grins when the cub makes a happy sound and nudges at his hand.

“Where are all your friends, hmm?” Stiles murmurs, rubbing the cubs ears. In hindsight, he knows this is an incredibly terrible on a list of ‘things not to do’. Wolves are incredibly protective of their young, but then again Stiles figures that if he’s hasn’t been mauled by now, he’s at least somewhat okay. He’s pretty sure that the black wolf is the only adult because he hasn’t seen any other evidence of other adult wolves.

The cub licks at his fingers and Stiles gently runs his fingers through the fur at the back of his neck and the cub makes little noises that Stiles thinks are pleased rumbles and leans into his touch. When the bushes rustle again he sees the other little cub from the other warily comes toward them. Stiles sits down, gasping a little at the cold as it sweeps through his jeans, but he doesn’t mind. He’s found the cubs again and as odd as it is, seeing them and being able to be this close to them makes him happy.

The lighter cub walks up to Stiles as he holds out a hand and the darker one tries to grab at the meat that Stiles is holding out for the lighter one and Stiles gently holds him away as the lighter cub sniffs at it and then takes it. The darker one yips and pushes at Stiles’ hand and Stiles smiles down at him and then suddenly his lap is full of a squirming wolf cub. The dark one licks at his face and Stiles lets out a delighted laugh and the lighter one licks at his fingers.

Another cub peeks out of the bushes, this one is that little blonde one that he had seen and he really doesn’t think that it’s a normal color for a wolf but he’s really not going to dwell on it, not when there is another one following, the darkest of them all, a deep dark brown. The light brown one was currently trying to climb into his lap and Stiles jostled the cubs around and he plucked out a couple of pieces of meat and tossed them to the two newcomers.

The two new cubs sniffed at the pieces of meat and the blonde one gulps it up almost happily and then walked towards him, sniffing at Stiles’ boots. The two in his lap are both rubbing against him and one is licking at his neck. Stiles reaches out his fingers to the blonde one and she noses at him before standing up and leaning to nip at the light brown ones ears.

Stiles looks around as he rubs the darkest cubs’ ears and scratches the belly of the first one he’d met when he flops over on Stiles’ lap. “You know, I thought there were five of you.” Stiles says and that gets the blonde cubs ears to perk up and she, yeah he notices that she’s the only the girl cub, lets out a bark and turns to look back behind them and Stiles looks in that direction and he can see a pair of blue eyes peeking out at him from the bushes.

“Oh, a shy little one, hmm?” Stiles says and tosses a piece of meat to see if the cub will come out. He doesn’t at first. It takes about ten minutes of Stiles playing with the cubs, trying to get them not to nip at his fingers and keep them from tearing holes through his jacket, when he does come out, he edges out of the brush with his tail tucked and his ears flat, his teeth bared and Stiles can hear the faint sound of him growling. He’s the smallest of the group and Stiles remembers seeing him play with them before, being a little hostile. But he might just have to be, given how rough they are being, Stiles gathers that the littlest has to act that tough so they don’t accidentally hurt him.

The girl cub and the light brown male with the grey mask are tussling on the ground by his feet and he notices that their markings look somewhat alike and it makes him wonder if they are siblings. He doesn’t think all of them are related, which wouldn’t really make much sense, given that one pair usually breeds, but then again these wolves are a little odd anyway.

He takes his phone out and snaps a few pictures of them and slides the phone back into his pocket. “I wonder if I should name you guys.” He murmurs, rubbing his fingers over the underside of the jaw of the darkest one, smiling when the cub’s eyes close and his little tail thumps against the ground. Watching them he thinks back to when his dad brought home one of the puppies that was going to be trained to be a police dog. It had only been for a few days, because the deputy that was going to train him couldn’t take him right away. His dad had told him not to name the puppy because then he’d get attached. He’d been right, even after two days Stiles was attached and then he had to watch the puppy leave with his dad’s canine deputy.

He really should have expected the adult wolf to show up sooner or later and when he does, Stiles isn’t as nearly as prepared as he thought. He’s still having these weird dreams of giant wolves and black creatures with red eyes moving through the forest, following him. It should make him never want to step foot into the woods, but he can’t seem to help himself. He can’t help but do stupid things, even in his mid twenties he’s still getting himself into loads of trouble.

When three of the five cubs start yipping with excitement, Stiles goes absolutely still. He looks up in the direction the cubs are running, he sees the black wolf standing there; about twenty feet away, watching them with his red eyes. The girl, the shy one and the darkest one run to the wolf and crowd around his legs, the girl jumping up to get his attention. But the wolf and Stiles are currently having a staring contest. Stiles swallows nervously as the red eyes stare into his own and he lets out a shaky breath, reaching down to gently remove the two cubs from his lap. He gently nudges them in the direction of the wolf and they try to stay with him and Stiles huffs out a frustrated sigh.

“I really don’t want to get eaten, so please go back to Papa Wolf.” Stiles whispers his fingers urgently pushing at them. He swears he hears the wolf snort and then two left are scampering over to the others. Stiles holds out his hands in surrender, thinking with how weird this lot is, it might actually work.

“So, come here often?” Stiles asks and he thinks he’s seeing things when the wolf rolls his eyes, but he’s moving forward and the cubs are staying put, watching almost curiously. More like learning how to eviscerate a human being, his brain supplies and Stiles panics and thinks he’s going to die and squeezes his eyes shut; pretty certain he said that last bit out loud. But soon enough he’s going to be wolf food, so it’s really not that important.

He’s surprised when he only feels a wet nose nudging against his hand and a warm tongue swipes over his held out palm and he grimaces, eyes cracking open. “Ugh, gross dude.” He says and wipes his hand on his jeans, scowling. He wolf snorts, but nudges at Stiles’ arm; gently tugging at his sleeve and Stiles thinks the wolf wants him to move. “Right. Okay, getting up now.” Stiles says and lifts himself up carefully and the wolf trots away as Stiles brushes off the pine needles and snow from his pants. When he looks up the wolf comes up to him with something and drops it at his feet.

“Huh.” Stiles says and the wolf drops it at his feet and Stiles stands there, reaches one hand down to grab it. When he realizes what it is, he nearly drops it. One of the no hunting signs that he’d been posting around the property. It looks as though it’s been chewed on, ripped off the tree and definitely in this wolf’s mouth.

“You’re hilarious, really.” Stiles says, laughing because he cant really think of anything else to do because this is really just, it’s fucking creepy. He wonders if this is how horror stories can start, or people slowly going insane, saying the animals were giving them signs, not like the physical sign in his hands right now, but like, you know, signs. Stiles tries desperately to shut his brain off, very certain with the way the wolf is looking at him that he actually said all of that part about the signs out loud.

The wolf noses the sign in Stiles’ hand and Stiles frowns at him. He doesn’t know what the wolf wants and seriously he shouldn’t be this close to it anyway. “Look, these are up for your safety. I’m trying to keep people off my land. That means they don’t see you guys, okay?” Stiles says and the wolf snorts and Stiles thinks that the wolf might understand him. Which is impossible. Wolves are smart, the knows that, but they wouldn’t, no, they shouldn’t have been able to understand human speech, it was impossible. He’s never going to sleep again if this keeps up.

Stiles reaches out to maybe touch the wolf, but he quickly rears his hand in when he sees the wolf’s ears flatten. “Right. No touching.” Stiles says and thinks to the wolf nudging him, so only touching if he initiates it then?

The wolf makes a noise and the cubs scatter, leaving the two of them alone. He then walks past Stiles and back in the direction that Stiles had come from. Stiles watches him and he stops and turns, looking at Stiles with a pointed look, swiveling his head in the direction of the cabin, Stiles’ brow furrows into a frown.

When Stiles doesn’t move, unsure of how to react to this wolf obviously trying to lead him somewhere, the wolf huffs, his whole body giving a sigh and lets out what Stiles can honestly say sounds like an annoyed yip, as if to say ‘will you come on already?’. It’s as if he’s annoyed at Stiles, for not following him, or maybe just existing? Stiles just blinks at him and then starts following him.

“This is not going to end well, following a giant creepy, stalker terminator wolf through the woods. I’m going to die.” Stiles mumbles as the wolf leads Stiles back to the trail he’s been marking through the woods. And if the wolf sighs again after he’s done talking, well, Stiles is just going to pretend that he didn’t hear it, because he’s got enough problems, and wondering if creepy stalker wolves can understand him is just great, he doesn’t need to add that to the list of weird things to happen to his life recently. Like inheriting a cabin and land that apparently houses said creepy wolves.

\--

The wolves are really starting to get to him. The next morning Stiles finds the black wolf on the edge of his property, when he walks out onto the small balcony attached to his room. It had snowed a little more in the night and it’s cold enough that he hopes his Jeep will start. But he sees the wolf at the edge of the tree line, no indication in the snow that he’s come closer and for that Stiles is grateful. He just watches the wolf, watches as he paces back and forth in the snow, occasionally glancing at the cabin, snow collecting on his back.

Stiles sighs and rubs his face and he doesn’t know how, but the wolf’s head shoots up as if he’s heard him and the red eyes find him. They stare at each other for a few minutes before Stiles sees the wolf’s breath mist in the air and then he turns to leave, disappearing into the trees. Stiles shivers and he’s not entirely sure it’s from the cold.

Later that day he’s back in Beacon Hills, having needed groceries and every book the library had on wolf behavior. He’d only grabbed one to two before, but now that he’s met them he needs more information. He even goes so far as to look up articles and research papers from the inter-library loan at the college library a BHCC. When he’s got all his groceries in the back and the books piled into the front seat he heads over to his dad’s house.

He lets himself in and finds his dad sitting on the couch in the living room with a beer in his hand and a pizza box open in front of him. Stiles squints at it and sighs, but is pleased to see that it’s just plain cheese.

“Hello to you too, son.” John says and Stiles opens the fridge and grabs a beer, popping it open and plops down next to his dad, leaning over to grab a slice, making a pleased sound when he takes the first bite. “Writing going well?”

Stiles nearly chokes and looks over at his dad and nods. John’s eyebrow lifts as he takes a sip of his beer, his eyes still on the tv.

“Oh? Someone mentioned seeing your Jeep in town yesterday and a couple days before that. And here you are, back in Beacon Hills again today. Everything alright?” He asks and Stiles finishes chewing before he talks because he did learn manners when he was younger, he may not have used them all of the time, but he had them.

“Library runs.” Stiles and the John nods, but Stiles can see his dad doesn’t really believe him. “I’m not… they aren’t for the book, that’s done. They’re for some research I’m doing.” Stiles says and when John nods this time he seems satisfied.

Stiles’ knee bounces as he finishes his slice and nurses his beer and when his dad picks up a second slice is when Stiles says, “So dad, question for you.”

“Oh crap Stiles, what did you do now?” his dad groans and Stiles turns to gape at him.

“What? What makes you think I did anything?” Stiles splutters and his dad’s eyes narrow. Stiles waves his arms out, flailing slightly and sloshes beer onto his wrist. “I didn’t, for the record. I’m just curious about something.” Stiles says, sucking the beer off his wrist.

“That’s usually when you get yourself into trouble.” John grumbles before he takes a bite of his pizza but makes a continue on motion with his hand for Stiles to ask away.

“Right. So, have there been any ah… large animal sightings recently.” Stiles asks and John raises an eyebrow at him. “Mainly wolves?”

John doesn’t talk for a few minutes, processing Stiles’ question. “Well, about a year ago there were a series of animal attacks. Two people were severely injured and three people died. Allison’s aunt was one of the people who died. Whatever it was, it ripped her throat out.” John says with a grimace and drops the rest of his slice back into the box.

“Right, I remember that. They got it though, right?” Stiles asks, recalling his dad’s email, Stiles had been so immersed in his writing at the time that he hadn’t had time to make it to the funeral. Allison hadn’t been too bothered by it. If he recalls correctly, she hadn’t wanted to go in the first place.

“Not exactly. Gerard, Allison’s grandfather told me that the situation had been taken care of. That he shot it. They showed me the body of a cougar.” John says and rubs at his eyes. Stiles feels a ‘but’ coming along and it makes his stomach roll. “The thing is, I’d already sent the fur out to the lab, from the killings before Kate and the techs declared they were wolf hairs. I took one of my deputies and we searched for a few weeks, but we never found anything. Well, except for Laura Hale’s body on the preserve.” John murmurs with a slight downturn of his mouth.

“Wait, Laura Hale?” Stiles says, sitting forward suddenly. He remembers her and her family, the fire.

“Yes. Do you pay any attention to anything that happens here anymore?” John says and Stiles shrugs and looks a little sheepish. Despite being a Sheriff’s kid, Stiles has been out of the loop on a lot of activity in Beacon Hills for the past few years. Besides the fire, that had made national news with it being the largest house fire in all of Beacon County with a large death toll. “Peter had been found dead a couple days after Kate, although the coroner says he fell, trauma to his head. They said it was inevitable though, given that he had escaped from the hospital in his state. Laura was found with a bullet in her a few weeks after that. She had been found on her family’s land, no one knew she was back around, we couldn't even contact her about Peter, the numbers were disconnected.”

Stiles stares at his hands, trying to take all the information in, because all he’d asked about werewolves and he had received this long, complicated answer. “But no wolves?”

“No.” John says softly, leaning back against the couch cushions. “People have mentioned it, seeing wolves on the preserve. But then again people’s imaginations have the tendency to get the better of them sometimes.”

Stiles wants to laugh bitterly at that, because well, yeah. He’s been trying to figure out if he’s slowly going insane, making up these wolves in the forest near his cabin. They certainly only show up at the oddest of times and seem to disappear without a trace.

They sit there for a little while, watching a rerun of CSI and when Stiles thinks his dad has dozed off, he speaks again. “It makes me wonder though, if he knows that Laura died.” His dad says softly and Stiles glances over to see him staring off into the distance, his eyes almost glazed over as if he’s reliving one the events he’s thinking about. Stiles hates that look, he hates what this job has done to his dad.

“Who?” Stiles asks, because despite what his dad thinks, he doesn't actually know everything he’s trying to say sometimes.

“Her brother, Derek Hale.” John murmurs and Stiles’ mind floods with images of Derek Hale. Only a few years older than him, star athlete of Beacon High, one of the jocks that Stiles had most definitely steered clear from freshman year of high school. Then something clicks with him, a conversation he’d had with his dad after the fire that had destroyed the Hale house. He swallows roughly and clears his throat.

“How many died in the fire again?” He asks, because he’s a terrible person. He knows that dealing with the fire had been one of the worst cases his dad had ever worked on. So many people died in the fire and a lot of them were people that his dad knew, including one of his father’s deputies.

“Ten. Not including the missing children.” John says after a few moments of silence, his voice sad. Stiles knows that the fire still haunts him sometimes, because he’s seen the files laid out on the kitchen table when his dad can’t sleep. He remembers the missing children, the fire inspector had said that they had most likely died in the fire, the fire being so hot that there were no remains left. His dad never believed that. He always thought that something else had happened to them. Stiles opens his mouth to ask how many there were, because he honestly can’t remember and his dad seems to know what he’s about to ask before his words even make their way from his mouth. “Five. There were five bodies missing.” He whispers.

Stiles sits back, images and thoughts flooding his head. The wolf with the red eyes, the forum for wolf sightings, the name K.A. standing out among the rest. Werewolves, bolding across his vision, it’s ridiculous because it can’t be true. He just has six freakishly odd wolves living on his property. Six. One adult and… _five cubs._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Any mistakes are mine, so please point them out if you find any!
> 
> Feel free to follow my tumblr cutewolfboys for more goodies. If you look under the Winter's Edge tag you'll find the fanart there.


	4. Interlude 1: The Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you for all the comments and kudos on this, it really means a lot!

Derek paces along the edge of the forest, watching as the young man starts his Jeep. He’s well hidden between pine the trees and given that the it’s snowing almost heavily he knows that the young man, Stiles, he reminds himself, can’t see him. He’d been caught earlier, pacing along the edge of the yard in plain sight, the snow collecting on his back.

Derek can hear Stiles cooing at his Jeep, begging it to start and when it does he lets out a triumphant cry and heads back into the cabin. Derek sits and waits for Stiles to leave. He’s been leaving a lot lately, leaving early in the morning and coming back the next day or late at night. Derek doesn’t know what he’s up to, but he’s not sure if he should be worried.

He smells familiar, that much Derek had noticed from the first time he’d come across him, catching his scent when it drifted across the river. Derek followed him back and had found that he was inhabiting the cabin that was close to their den. He knew that the old man who had lived there previously had died. When first coming here, he and Laura had checked it out, the man had smelled sick. Derek figured he may somehow have been related to Stiles.

The door to the cabin swings open with a loud creak and then a bang as it springs back and hits the doorjamb Derek lifts his head to watch Stiles get into his Jeep and drive down towards the main road, the tail lights disappearing into the haze of snow. 

Derek trots out from his hiding spot and goes up towards the cabin. He’s not really sure why he keeps coming back, but he’s curious. When he gets to the front steps he cocks his head and listens for the sound of the Jeep. Stiles is almost to the road and if he were to turn back now, Derek would still be able to get back to the safety of the trees. So he climbs the stairs and shifts on the porch. He can feel it in his bones that it’s going to snow for the rest of the day and his tracks will be well concealed by the time Stiles arrives back. Given that he stays gone most of the day as per usual.

He gets to the screen door and eases one sharp nail into the gap between the door and the doorjamb and applies enough pressure for the door to pop open. He steps inside and inhales sharply, easing the door closed behind him. It’s the first time he’s let himself in since Stiles had moved in. When it was obvious that the previous owner was ill and not coming back Derek had broken in numerous times. The entire place smells different with Stiles living here now. There are lingering scents of the old man, oil, rust and sickness. But Stiles’ scent, sharp like cloves and cinnamon permeates the entire ground floor. It’s more homely, with the smell of old books and coffee and a hint of vanilla.

Derek looks around and notices that Stiles has made a few changes to the interior and he glances over at where he knows the bathroom to be. He feels an itch under his skin at the thought of taking a hot shower and the ability to use running water again. He doesn’t really want to see what he looks like, but he knows from running his hands over his face and through his hair that his beard is in need of a trimming, as is his mop of hair.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to clean up after himself completely, make it look like he wasn’t there. Before, when no one checked on the house it had been easier, the jeans he’s wearing right now are proof of it. He’d taken a few things when it was obvious the old man wouldn’t be returning, but now, with Stiles so curious about him and the cubs he knows he can’t risk it.

It is the only reason he’s snuck into the house in the first place. He’s looking for any indication that Stiles is a threat. The gun he’d been carrying around had been the first hint that maybe Derek should take the cubs and leave. But when Stiles hadn’t pulled it on him, or even made an effort to use it, he still wants to make sure, to keep himself and the cubs safe.

The ‘no hunting’ signs should have been a dead giveaway and the traps and snares that Stiles had taken up as well, but Derek isn’t about to hesitate on something this important. He looks around at the common area and sees nothing of interest so he heads up the stairs to the second level. He follows his nose to the room at the top of the stairs, the one with the large floor to ceiling window. He’s seen Stiles standing there sometimes at night, looking out at the forest.

He knows from checking on the house at night that this is one of the rooms that Stiles frequents. His scent is strong in here and Derek realizes upon entering that it must be his office. The walls across from him had the largest whiteboards that Derek has ever seen. 

The desk is littered with papers and open books. Books are stacked and scattered throughout the entire room. Some open, some not and mostly all of them have pages or post-it-notes sticking out of them. The whiteboards are what mainly catch his attention though, one specifically. There are print outs of diagrams and wolf anatomy sheets and for one blinding moment Derek panics. His eyes scan the board, notes Stiles has taken on the cubs, on him and quickly he turns to the desk, grabbing the nearest book and seeing that it’s about wolves.

He feels his gut clench and he his breathing starts become slightly erratic. He looks back to the whiteboards and tries to make sense of Stiles’ writing. Everything is all over the place, his theories and thoughts. Derek almost barks out a hysterical laugh at the ‘are they dire wolves?’ question. It’d be hilarious, if the whole situation weren’t so terrifying.

He reads over the rest of the board, running his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself and tell himself that it’s all purely academic, that Stiles isn’t a hunter, or anything dangerous to them. If anything, he’s been more curious about them, that much is obvious about the way he keeps coming into the forest despite Derek’s best efforts to scare him off. Or intimidate him from trying to find them.

Stiles seems to be more into research than anything, if all the books around the office are anything to go by. Derek glances at the other whiteboards and his eyes scan them for anything connecting to him and the cubs. All he sees are weird names and things written about them, so he shrugs them off and goes back over to the desk to look over some of the other things there.

As he’s looking he thinks about how it might actually be a good thing if Stiles were to learn his secret. It would be better for him certainly, he wouldn’t have to live in the cave on the other side of the river. He knows that he had a hard time trusting people, but hearing Stiles’ words the other day about the signs and how he was putting them up to keep Derek and cubs safe made him think that maybe Stiles would be okay to tell.

He comes across a large pile of paper, clipped together with binder clips, a title across the center with Stiles’ name under it. Derek makes a choked noise and drops the manuscript when he reads Stiles’ last name. Stilinski. There is no way that it’s a common last name and Derek swallows roughly and looks around for something else with Stiles’ name on it. There is no way that Stiles can be from Beacon Hills, Derek would have recognized him, especially if he was related to the Sheriff.

He throws open the drawers, searching for something, anything that has Stiles’ name on it and finally comes across a paperback book, Stiles’ name across the cover, he flips to the back and sure enough there is a picture of Stiles and a little ‘about the author’ column. It mentions he’s from Beacon Hills and that he attended college at Berkeley, and then attended a school in Portland to get his Masters Degree. He vaguely recalls Stiles as a teenager, long limbs and awkward sentences. Stiles being away at college for years explains why Derek doesn’t remember him all that much. Derek starts flipping through the book, curious about what Stiles writes about when the phone rings and it startles him so much that he jumps back, dropping the book.

It keeps ringing as he reaches down to pick up the book and put it back where he found it. After the fourth ring the answering machine finally kicks in and a voice cracks across the line. Feminine, the same one he’d heard a couple mornings ago when he’d been roaming around the outside of the house.

“Stiles, I swear I’m going to come up there and physically lock you in your office and tie you to your desk so that you finish that book. I mean it. You better have something for me soon. I’ve already pushed the deadline for you once. I’m not doing it again, call me back.” The young woman says and Derek vaguely recalls her name being Lydia. Only because Stiles mutters about her when he’s walking through the woods.

He didn’t even know Stiles’ name until he’d listened in on Stiles muttering to himself in the woods. Derek found that if he got particularly spooked he’d talk in the third person. He’ll definitely admit that sometimes when he’s following Stiles, he makes noise so that Stiles knows he’s there, or at least makes Stiles think he’s there.

He’s spent far too much time away from the cubs for the morning and quickly leaves, making sure that it’s not evident he’s been in the house. He locks the door behind him and shifts on the porch, jumping off and into the snow.

When he makes it back across the river to the safety of the den, the cubs greet him happily. He chuffs at them, as they rub against him, whining happily now that he’s back. He doesn’t like to leave them alone for long since they get curious and tend to wander off. He likes to know where they are, that’s why he’s always worried about Stiles coming across them.

They don’t understand that he might be a threat. To them he’s something new and curious, a human that they haven’t met before and like any young animal or person they are curious. It worries him that one day they might get too curious with the wrong person. But Stiles seems okay, for now.

He shifts, now that he’s in the den and lights one of the old lamps that he’d taken from the cabin’s garage when the old man left and pulls on one of the sweaters he has. His clothes have definitely seen better days, but they are all he’s got right now. He lays down in the nest of blankets he’s made for himself, wanting to nap before he’ll eventually have to go and hunt for the cubs.

He’s not surprised when he feels a wet nose at his cheek and warm breath on his face. He opens his eyes to see brown fur, a lighter under belly, and dark marks between the gap of Scott’s golden eyes. “Hey bud.” Derek says softly, reaching out a hand rub the bridge of Scott’s muzzle. Scott makes a happy sound and flops down next to him. Derek glances up, the other four are playing near the entrance of the cave, as Scott tucks himself against Derek’s side, grumbling happily when Derek rubs his belly.

Derek presses his nose into the fur of Scott’s neck, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of family and pack wash over him. Scott was the only family member he had left now and sure the other cubs were practically family, they were pack, but Scott was blood. Scott was a Hale and if anything happened to him, Derek didn’t know what he’d do. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost any of them, but most of all Scott.

“You think you could try and shift for me today?” he asks quietly into Scott’s fur. Scott stills under his fingers, his breath hitches and he whines. Derek’s fingers tighten their hold on his belly and he sighs softly, fingers stroking gently under Scott’s chin. He glances at the others who had all stilled when he asked Scott to shift. They are all giving him nervous looks, tails dropping and tucking between their legs, ears flattening. Derek frowns into Scott’s fur and waves his other hand at the cubs, motioning them over. “It’s okay.” He whispers softly as they all slink towards him. Erica is the first to get to them, she presses her face against Scott’s neck , nosing up and licking at Derek’s forehead before moving to lay down near his head.

Jackson comes next, the smallest of them all and by far the grouchiest of the cubs, at least when it comes to them. He only ever snaps at Derek if he’s getting harped on by the others too much. Jackson just brushes against Derek’s fingers and lays down, pressing himself against Scott. Scott licks at the top of Jackson’s head and Jackson lets out a quiet growl, but when Derek gently flicks his ear he quiets.

Boyd, the darkest of the cubs, rubs against Derek’s side, licking his ear before he settles down with Erica near Derek’s head. The last is Isaac, who whines softly and Derek gives him a thin-lipped smile. Derek gently brushes his thumb over one of the grey markings under Isaac’s eye and Isaac leans into his palm.

“It’s alright.” Derek murmurs and Isaac moves to squirm under his arm, laying his head on Scott’s flank. He doesn’t know who he’s trying to reassure more, them or himself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you guys know who the cubs are. Their connection to the Hales and to Derek will be explained in the next chapter! Any mistakes are mine, so if you find anything major let me know and I'll fix it!


	5. The Full Moon

When Stiles wakes that morning, his head throbs and he rubs at his face groggily. He’s splayed across his old bed, one leg falling off the side because he’s not used to sleeping in such a small space anymore. He groans and glances at his watch, realizing that he’s actually slept in later than he intended. He gets up, trudging to the bathroom to brush his teeth and pee and then heads back to his room to make his bed.

He goes down to the kitchen to make himself some coffee and is pleased to see that his dad already has and while Stiles isn’t exactly a fan of microwaved coffee. He’s not about to complain when he doesn’t actually have to wait for it to brew. When he glances at the fridge he sees that his dad left him a note and his lips curl into a small smile.

_Went to work, the plow is in the garage for your Jeep. Call me when you leave. Don’t forget your groceries. –Love, Dad._

The microwave dings and he pulls his coffee out and sets it aside to cool a little, he’s not in favor of scalding his mouth first thing and pokes around to see what he can have for breakfast. When he’s done with breakfast on his second cup he heads out to the garage and hooks the plow up to the Jeep. It’s way more difficult when he doesn’t have his dad there to help him, but he manages.

He even salts the sidewalk and the driveway for his dad. They didn’t get much snow, just a dusting, but if the temperature drops later it’ll definitely turn to ice and he doesn’t need his dad falling. When he’s satisfied with the plow being on correctly and driveway being walkable he heads back in to pack his stuff so he can head back north.

He’d already berated himself last night for not leaving when he should have and by now he’s sure his driveway has probably a foot of snow. Although he’d rather be snowed out of his house rather than snowed in. When he gets into the dining room to grab some of his groceries he double checks that he has everything.

The case files from numerous different cases that had plagued his dad over the years are right there, within arms reach. He knows he shouldn’t, he always got into enough trouble in High School when he took them to look over. But he knows what files are in there and which ones he desperately wants to get his hands on.

Biting his lip he drops his groceries and hesitates for only a second before going over to the buffet and opening the top drawer to where the files were. He pulls the stack out and quickly flips through them for the ones marked ‘Hale’ on the side tab. He finds the one he’s looking for and quickly flips through it, his gut rolling when he comes across some of the crime-scene photos. He quickly flips it shut, grabs the rest of his things and piles into the Jeep. He contemplates stopping by the station to visit his dad, but he knows that it will only invoke suspicion that Stiles wants something. So instead he calls his dad and then drives up to the cabin and tries not to think too much about the folder metaphorically burning a hole into the passenger seat.

The further he gets into the mountains the more he curses himself for staying away too long. He’s thankful that the plow trucks were sent out to keep the roads clear. The main road that he takes is a main route that goes north and then turns off onto another route. He avoids the back roads at all costs, knowing they most likely haven’t been plowed.

Plowing up his driveway is probably the most difficult and tedious thing he has ever done. “I should have just paid someone else to do it.” He mutters as he finally gets close to the house. He gets out and trudges inside with all of his things, puts away the groceries and heads up to his office. He groans when he sees he has four messages on his answering machine. Low and behold three of them are from Lydia threatening him with bodily harm if he doesn’t call her back. She almost sounds worried, but that might just be the exasperation of having to come up with new threats.

“You could have just called my cell phone.” Stiles says, bypassing any greeting at this point. He figures he merits at least much, since in the last message she threatened to cut his gonads off.

Lydia sniffs on the other end and Stiles resists rolling his eyes. “I tried, it’s not as if you had it on. Classical you, turning off and any and all ways of communication so you don’t have to deal with me.” Lydia says and Stiles splutters into the phone.

“Are you kidding me? I had my cell on all night and all day.”

“Your service must be terrible then.” She says and Stiles just drops his head into his hand rather than try and fight with her. “Do you have anything for me?” She asks all sweet like. But Stiles knows that tone, it’s the tone of ‘if you don’t I will castrate you’.

“Yes. It’s done. Or as done as it’s going to get. Give me two more days to look over it one more time and I’ll email it to you.” Stiles murmurs and looks out at the window at the woods.

“Fine. But only two days.” She says and then hangs up.

“Yeah, lovely talk.” Stiles mutters and shoves the phone down on to the receiver.

Later that night, after he’s spent the entire rest of the day reading over the manuscript for his book he finally calls it quits and leans back in his chair, tiredly rubbing his eyes.  He sighs and drops his hands down into his lap, swiveling his chair around to distract himself. It’s then that he catches sight of the large case file he’d taken from his dad.

He grabs it and flips it open, glancing at the reports on top and then shuffling things aside until he comes across what he was looking for. There are pictures of the Hale family, Laura and Derek’s reports from that night and then the missing persons reports which are stacked underneath. Stiles is sure that each child has their own file back at the station and no doubt amber alert had been notified. How could they not have been with five children somehow missing. But what he doesn’t get, when he looks at the reports, are his dad’s notes written in the margins about their sudden disappearance, and asking how why Laura and Derek never called to check in about the children.

Stiles swallows roughly when he gets to the pictures of Kate Argent’s body, her throat torn out. It causes images of the black wolf to filter through Stiles’ head and he shakes them off. Next are photos of Peter’s death and then Laura’s. He feels a chill roll down his spine as he glances at the photos, feeling an overwhelming amount of sadness when he looks at Laura. The report says that she had been shot twice, once in the heart and then once in the head. It looked more like a hit if he’s ever seen one and being the Sheriff’s kid he’d seen a few when he was supposed too.

He wonders briefly as he sets aside Laura’s report if his father had any suspicions as to who her killer was. He sighs when the next set of reports he gets to are the ones of the children. He takes them out and spreads them across his desk to get a better look at them. There are sketches done up by a sketch artist and then some questionable prints of the children, most likely photos that survived the fire or from school, pulled from the yearly photos.

The first one he comes across is Scott Hale, a young boy with a mop of dark hair and an easy smile. His father was Peter Hale, making the boy Derek and Laura’s younger cousin. His mother was Melissa Hale nee Delagado and he can tell that Scott definitely favored his mother with his darker skin and dark hair, while Peter was paler with blue eyes and brown hair. Stiles remembers Melissa from when he was kid. She was a nurse at Beacon Hills Memorial and would sometimes sit with him while he waited for his parents to be done with the doctors, when his mom was sick. It brings back a flood of memories that he doesn’t want to deal with, so he shoves them back down and forces himself to concentrate on Scott’s file. Stiles reads on and finds that Scott was seven when the fire happened, making him about ten now, given that it happened almost two and half years ago.

Two and a half years is a long time for children to be missing, or living out in the woods, his brain supplies. The next one he picks up is for a Vernon Boyd III, and Stiles remembers this boy all too well. A frequent visitor to the station to see his father, always quiet yet somehow a very watchful little boy. Stiles remembers meeting him once and he’d insisted on being called Boyd, like his father. Boyd would be about ten now too, like Scott, he was in second grade when the fire struck the home.

Erica Reyes-Lahey, a curly haired blonde girl with wide brown eyes and a disarming smile. She was only girl of the all the children missing and Stiles can’t help but think of the little blonde female cub of the pack. Her mother had perished in the fire, her father was marked unknown on the copied birth certificate. She was five when the fire took place, so Stiles figures she’s eight if not close to it.

Which led to the next file and he was surprised to see that most of the dates matched up with Erica’s, making Isaac Reyes-Lahey, a curly-haired blue eyed boy, her twin. There were few notes, Stiles imagines from Laura,  different from Erica’s file here, stating that the twins mothers had both died, Samantha Lahey and Luna Reyes.

“Interesting.” Stiles murmurs to himself and looks at the files spread out before him. He realizes then, that another file is stuck to Isaac’s and he pulls them apart.

The last file is the youngest, Stiles realizes that were in order of age. The child having recently turned three when the fire happened, that would make him a little over five years old. There is no photo of the boy, only a sketch, a boy with blue eyes and freckles across his nose, his name is Jackson. Not blood related, but adopted by the Hale family when they found him left on the reserve. Those were definitely odd circumstances, finding a child in the woods. Stiles sighs and leans back in his chair, staring at the files spread out on his desk. Five children missing, five cubs on his property, one girl and one female cub, it’s all oddly coincidental.

But he wants to know why they were all gathered at the house that night. Not all of them lived there, he knew the Hale house was huge, but it couldn’t have been that large. When he glances out the window he sees the moon, huge, bright, and full, staring at him, almost mockingly. The word ‘werewolves’ bolds across his vision and his brain fills in the blanks with things he’d read, gatherings, hunts, rituals, celebrations all took place on the night of the full moon for werewolves. Or so his articles said.

Without really even thinking about it, his brain on autopilot now, he shuffles around for the original report of the fire. He pulls his computer close and searches Google for dates of past full moon. He clicks the first one that looks legit enough and quickly types in the date of the fire, it was full moon. His stomach flips in what he can’t decide is horror or excitement.

He practically drops the entire file onto the floor in his haste to find Kate’s report and checks the date of her death. He plugs it in and his stomach does a flip again, once again a full moon. Stiles gulps and runs his hand over his mouth, his fingers twitching against his keyboard. He remembers his father’s phrase, “First time is an accident, the second time is coincidence, third time is a pattern.” He whispers and wishes he had the deaths of the other people who died. Peter had died only days after Kate, so it wasn’t on a full moon. When he checks Laura’s death it’s only an estimated time of death and nowhere near a full moon. He slumps in his chair, knowing that he’s missing a piece of the puzzle.

“It has to be a coincidence. It’s not possible.” He murmurs, knowing full well he’s in denial and reaches out to shuffle aside the files when he sees a photo peeking out. He inhales sharply at the young man in the photo. A man who looks very much like the young man that Stiles had seen running through the woods, away from him just a couple weeks back, and he flips the picture over, fingers shaking when he reads his dad’s hand writing across the back, Derek Hale.

“Pull it together Stiles.” He mutters and rubs at his eyes and glances out the large window again. The sky had darkened earlier, well before Stiles had forced himself to get out of his office and make himself some dinner. But now it was late, well past midnight and he had a lot to do over the next two days if he was going to make it through reading the entire manuscript.

His eyes hurt from looking through everything and he decides to head to bed. When he gets to his room it’s only then that he realizes how bright and full the moon is. He slides open the glass door to his little balcony and tucks his arms against his sides, shivering as the cold hits him.

It’s ridiculously bright out, with the clear sky and all the snow, everything seems to be glowing. Stiles wonders if the wolves are okay, if they have a nice warm den somewhere out of the snow where they stay dry. He hasn’t been across the entire property yet, so he doesn’t even know what else is out there.

He doesn’t know what makes him do it. Sheer stupidity maybe? But he’s throwing his head back and letting out a howl. In the books he’d gathered information on, he’d read that wolves howl to let other pack members know where they are. It echoes through the forest and when he sighs, his breath mists in the air.

A few minutes later, off in the distance, in what he thinks is the location of the river, he hears it. The unmistakable sound of a lonely howl, it saddens him to hear it. There is silence after the wolf slowly cuts off, and Stiles has no doubt it’s the black wolf, his tone is low and it suits him. Stiles can picture him, sitting in a clearing or on top of some large boulders, howling up at the moon, the moonlight illuminating his dark coat. The forest is eerily silent after the last of the wolf’s howls echo through the trees. Stiles waits to see if he’ll call again and he does, this one almost more heart-wrenching than the last and Stiles can’t help but lift his head and howl back. If anything, it’s to let the wolf know he’s not alone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and left kudos. The support is very much appreciated and I thank every one of you!


	6. The River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some scenes in here, a near death experience and a panic attack, that could be triggering for some people. See the notes at the bottom if you decide to skip over them.

A couple days later he finally gets himself out of the house. It hadn't snowed much more, but it had become a little colder. Everything seemed to sparkle and glow the next day with the fresh powder. Today though, it was overcast and it looked like they might get some more snow. The impending snow didn't stop him though, he needed to get out of the house, he was going stir crazy.

He needed exercise and to get the blood flowing. It was too damn cold to go running, but he figured if he layered enough and made sure he was appropriately bundled he would be fine. He pulls on a flannel over his t-shirt and if Lydia were here she would totally roll her eyes at him. So he still dresses like he did in High School, he doesn't have a problem with it. He’s got no one to impress, not that he’d dress to impress anyway, but it doesn't matter.

He tries to shove the thought of Lydia out of his head right now, because he knows he’s disappointed her with his most recent manuscript. Hell, he disappointed himself with it. His heart just wasn't in this one, but it was what the editors wanted him to write, so he wrote it. It’s not his fault it’s crap, well it is, but he’s blaming them.

It had been a day since he’d emailed her and he had yet to hear back from her, which was unusual. No threats, no arguing with him, not even a ‘this is terrible Stiles, what were thinking.’ So it’s made him nervous, really nervous. Usually when Lydia doesn’t talk to him it’s because he’s done something stupid or she’s disappointed in him and as good as she was putting him down in High School with her snide comments, she hardly does it now. Or she’s planning something. He really hopes she’s not planning anything, because he just doesn't know if he wants to deal with it. Although he wouldn't mind the company, it tends to get a little lonely up in the cabin, being by himself.

He shakes his head, tugs on his hat, and pulls his gloves out of his pockets. Making sure his phone is on and his gps is activated he sets out. He will admit he’s actually a little nervous on seeing the wolves. Because really, how do you go about telling if one is a werewolf?

He’d come to conclusion that they very well could be werewolves and while he still has some doubt that he’s wrong, because hey, werewolves shouldn't exist, but he doesn't even know how to approach it.

Asking a wolf about the size of a bear if he’s a werewolf and hoping for him not to freak out on you and go all snarly and scary is going to be tricky. Stiles isn't exactly prominent in the tactful department either, when he’s nervous he tends to lose his brain to mouth filter. He can picture this going very, very wrong. Like bloody and evisceration, wrong.

“Yeah, scare yourself to death before you even get out there, sure, great.” Stiles mutters to himself as he pauses and looks towards the trees. Mentally preparing himself for this hadn't been difficult, once he’d convinced himself that Derek, if the wolf is Derek, wouldn’t eat him, he’d been okay. Somewhat.

He doesn’t think Derek will eat him, at least he’s hoping he won’t. He’s pretty sure he’s not that tasty, probably a little mealy if anything. But thinking that werewolves were real made everything else he’d ever studied come out of the woodwork. He’d taken a few mythology classes in college and one had focused on mythological creatures. He doesn’t really want to believe that ghouls, djins and everything else that creeped the hell out of him was real. Watching them come to life in Supernatural had been bad enough.

He walks along and heads toward the river, following the spray paint marks on the trees. Glancing up at the sky, he hopes it’s not going to snow too much, because that will mean he’ll have trouble finding his way back. He hears the sound of crunching snow behind him and can’t help but smile despite himself. Something unfurls in his gut and he doesn’t know if it’s excitement at seeing the wolves or panic with what he’s about to do.

He’s brought out of his thoughts though, by the sound of little paws impacting the snow and suddenly he’s surrounded by the cubs, happy yips and little wriggling masses of fur. He grins and gets down on his knees so they can greet him and not tear his jeans apart. “Hey guys, miss me?” He asks, laughing as the girl cub licks at his chin, practically shoving the others aside to greet him.

The littlest of them, growls and snaps at her, but she just ignores him and keeps licking at Stiles’ chin. “It’s okay little guy.” Stiles says and reaches out to stroke his fingers over the cubs’ ears. He practically preens at the attention and Stiles can’t help but laugh softly.

The tawny colored one is nudging his knee and rubbing against him, tail wagging and then the other two are pressing up against him, almost knocking him over. He realizes then, that they are scent marking him and he ducks his head and lets them love him. He didn't really realize until right now how much they mean to him. He doesn't see them that often, but when he does they make his day, hell, they make his entire week that much better. He enjoys seeing them, being able to pet them, watch them run around.

He’ll even admit the black wolf means something to him. Despite him creeping Stiles out at first, he’d grown comfortable, well not comfortable, but at least aware that the wolf followed him whenever he was in the forest. And well, it was sort of terrifying to know that a huge wolf about the size of a bear was following you around, but he had never actively made an effort to hurt Stiles. Sure, there was snarling and snapping and the occasional show of those huge, white, gleaming teeth, but Stiles didn't have a scratch on him that came from the wolf.

He could very be dead by now and that says something to him. He always had some weird misplaced sense of security, knowing the wolf was there, especially after the incident with the bear. He had a feeling that the wolf would protect him if he were to be in danger again, or at least, he sure hoped so.

He doesn't know how long he sits there in the snow, playing with the cubs, tossing sticks and having them run around and then come back up to him. They lick at his face and chew on his fingers and the littlest one somehow squirmed up into his coat at one point, but Stiles doesn’t mind because he radiated heat like a furnace and he loved the attention. He seemed to not snap too much at the others when he was getting cuddles from Stiles.

They all had different personalities, the tawny one was a little shy at times, but once he figured out he liked something he demanded it, like belly rubs, he loved to have his belly scratched. The female was almost flirty and loved to have Stiles’ attention, which he didn't mind giving to her. The brown one was lovable and if anything a little curious with the tendency to fall asleep in any position when he sprawled in Stiles’ lap. The darkest of the cubs was a little distant, it wasn't like he was shy, but almost like he didn't know what he wanted. Stiles eventually learned that he liked having his ears rubbed.

“I shouldn't really be surprised, given who is raising you.” He mumbles when the female cub rolls around in the snow near his legs, avoiding his fingers as he tries to tickle her belly. She snuffs at him and then lays there, watching his hand. The smallest one, who is still tucked inside his coat, sneezes and startles him. “Bless you.” He says, looking down, the cub shakes his head a little and burrows his nose back into the warmth of Stiles’ chest.

It had been snowing for a while now and Stiles knows that if it weren't for the cubs sprawling all over him that he’d be just about frozen. He thinks it’s probably about time for him to go, given that the snow has begun to pick up and it’s getting late. He’s been out way longer than he thought.

“I should probably head home you guys. Where’s Papa Wolf?” He asks, even though he knows they have no idea what he’s probably saying. But the three cubs that are spread over his legs whine when he nudges them off and the littlest makes a noise when Stiles unzips his jacket and deposits him on the ground next to the female. As if on cue, the black wolf emerges from the trees about fifty feet away, barking at the cubs as though he knows Stiles has to leave.

Stiles knew he’d been watching, how could he not have been? The cubs wouldn’t have been so at ease running around if he hadn’t been close by. Stiles watches as the cubs trot towards the wolf, rubbing against him and Stiles watches as the littlest one stops in front of him and the wolf leans down to sniff at him and sneezes.

“I don’t smell that bad.” Stiles grumbles, but can’t help but smile as the wolf grunts, obviously having heard him. The entire time Stiles had been with them he’d tried to see if the cubs understood him, talking softly to them, but not saying anything that would scare them or if the black wolf was around to raise any suspicion.

He had been kind of disappointed at first when they showed no signs of understanding him, but then the brown one had reacted to something Stiles had said when he’d just been rambling about his parents, talking about his dad and leading into talk about his mom. The cub had whined and leaned against him, like he knew what it meant to lose a mother and really, now that Stiles thinks about it, they all had looked a little sad at that point.

The cubs disappear, off into the trees, but the wolf remains, standing there and watching with his red eyes as if waiting to see if Stiles is going to follow them. He’s not. Even though he really wants to, he’s not going to follow them to their den. He wants to wait until they trust him enough to bring him there.

“Thanks for letting them play with me.” Stiles says from where he’s standing. The wolf stares at him, but his ears twitch and then to Stiles’ surprise he sits down. Stiles wonders if the wolf can smell his curiosity and if curiosity even has a smell and if it does, what does it smell like? He can feel adrenaline begin to course through him, remembering the lonely howls from a few nights ago and how it felt to hear them.

If this wolf is a werewolf and if he’s really Derek Hale, Stiles wants to do something about it. He wants to help him. He wants to help all of them. He can’t just leave them out in the woods for the rest of their lives, it would be cruel. And if anyone got word of them being here, Stiles doesn’t want to even think of what would happen. He knows in his gut that Allison’s aunt had something to do with that fire and he guesses that Peter Hale had something to do with her death, if he also was a werewolf.

It’s all connected and he knows it. He doesn’t think Allison or her father had anything to do with it, because Allison is basically his best friend and Kate was hardly ever mentioned in the years that they had known each other. He’s pretty sure that he could even get Allison and Chris to maybe help out, if Derek trusted them enough. Assuming Derek trusted him enough first. If this wolf was Derek.

“I uh…there is something I wanted to you ask you.” Stiles says, letting out a nervous laugh and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I think you can understand me and while it’s kind of creeped me out a little, okay a lot… I’m just like, I don’t even know how to put this.” He says, watching the wolf for any indication of flight or well, evisceration being in Stiles’ future.

Nothing though, the wolf is just watching him with those calculating red eyes and Stiles doesn’t really know what to say or do. Everything is eerily silent around them, like the entire forest is waiting for a pin to drop, or something. Stiles watches a few large snowflakes fall in front of his face, catching on his eyelashes and he blinks them away before continuing.

“Look,” He murmurs, taking his hands out and holding them in a placating manner, showing that he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s sure the wolf can hear his pounding heart, but he should know that Stiles doesn’t mean any harm. “Are you uh…” Stiles starts to stutter out, his hands start to shake and he doesn’t know why he’s panicking over this, it’s like he should be. The wolf is tense now though, body coiled with tension, like any moment he’s going to flee, Stiles won’t blame him if he does, it actually confirms his suspicions though. “I know this sounds stupid, but are you Derek Hale?” He asks, his voice cracking at the end and he winces.

The wolf is absolutely still, the truth is in his wide, horror filled eyes. Stiles never thought that a wolf could manage to look so scared in it’s entire life, but this one is managing it right now. Within one moment and the next the wolf is sitting there absolutely still to whirling and dashing into the trees like a bat out of hell. Stiles takes his answer as a yes.

Before he’s even realizing he’s doing it, he’s running after Derek, shoving through the bare bushes, snow crunching under his boots, trying to keep up. Derek is far ahead of him, but Stiles is sure that he’ll be able to keep him in his sights. He did cross country in college after all.

He slides down a bank, “Wait, please!” he calls after Derek’s retreating form. He jogs a little further into the open area and Derek is ahead of him by maybe fifty feet and Stiles slows. Derek whirls around suddenly from where the tree line starts again and he’s snarling, white teeth flashing.

He barks out what almost sounds like a warning and he’s edging forward, paws braced in the snow and his snarling turns into high pitched barks and yeah, Stiles definitely thinks Derek is warning him. It takes about 30 seconds for his brain to catch up with him and pinpoint exactly where he is.

The bank, the open area of trees, and Stiles feels the panic deep in his gut, hands already starting shake, and he tries to shove down the impending panic attack. The river. How could be so stupid as to not realize he was close to the river. He carefully glances over his shoulder, and Derek whines from where he is on the opposite bank, dancing across the snow, trying to find a way to him.

When he hears the crack and groan of the ice under him, he glances down to see the snow becoming wet beneath his boots. “Oh God.” He whispers and swallows roughly, trying not to make any sudden movements that will cause the ice to crack anymore than it has.

Both of the banks are too far for him to get to, but he knows he very well can’t stay where he is. He doesn’t even know where he is in terms of the river, whether he’s at a deep part of the river or a shallower part. Knowing his luck and with the way Derek is freaking out, its the former.

There is another loud crack and Stiles inhales sharply because he can see the snow falling into the gap that it’s created and the water starting to well up and he jerks his head up to watch Derek. He’s coiled tight again, his ears perked and he’s panting heavily, his eyes meet Stiles’ just as Stiles feels more of the ice crack under his boots.

“Derek.” He whispers just as the ice breaks under him, sending him plunging into the icy water of the river. His fingers scramble for purchase on the ice, trying to grab onto anything to keep his head above water, but the ice keeps breaking and his fingers slide. He manages to hurl himself up enough to gulp in air, but then the current is pulling him under again and his clothes are weighing him down. He tries to get out of his jacket, but realizes his struggling has only taken him further from his air hole and he pounds at the ice, screaming, air bubbles rising around him.

Fists pounding against the ice, he hears muffled shouting above him and he tries to get back to where he was, but there is a searing pain in the back of his head and he reaches around to touch and when his fingers go back to press against the ice they are red, blood smearing across the ice as he scrabbles for purchase. It’s only then he realizes, as everything starts to go dark, his head feeling heavy, his vision wavering that he must have hit his head going under.

 

\--

 

When Stiles wakes up, everything is a bit hazy, his mouth is dry and he’s oddly warm. He smells smoke and feels the warmth of blankets over top of him, against his naked skin. The blankets smell like pine, something musky, earth and maybe a little like burnt wood.

The funny thing is, the last thing he really remembers is being bitterly cold, unable to breath and thinking that he was going to drown. He groans and rubs his head, moaning when it jostles him a little too much, and yeah, he forgot that he may have hit his head. He slides his fingers back to inspect the damage and it surprised to find a bandaged taped there, but the whole area is sore and he hisses just touching the flesh around it.

He knows someone must have patched him up and he drops his hands down, surprised when his fingers make contact with soft fur. He stills almost instantly, eyes cracking open and he glances down to find a little wolf head, resting on his chest. It’s not the only one either, there are four more little furry bodies curled up against him. His cubs, curled up with him.

The little tawny male has his head on Stiles’ chest and he cracks open one eye lazily when Stiles reaches out to touch his ears hesitantly. If the cubs are here and he’s not in his bed at home, then that must mean that Derek saved him right? Unless he’s dead, or hallucinating.

He looks around carefully, trying not to move his head too much because his vision practically swims when he moves too quickly. He sees him then, the man that he’d come across in the woods those first few days of living out here, Derek Hale. Derek is watching him, his face expressionless, eyes unreadable from where he sits next to the fire and watches as Stiles stares at him. It’s almost unnerving, feeling that gaze upon him.

“Why am I naked?” He blurts and winces, because that’s really not what he wanted to say, even if he does want to know why he’s unclothed and wondering where is clothes are.

“You needed to get warm, before you got hypothermia.” Derek murmurs, after a few minutes of awkward staring and silence.

Stiles nods, wincing after he does so, gulps and bites at his lip. He’s read books, seen movies and done a bit of research, he knows what happens when someone falls into cold water. Body heat is needed, usually another person’s to raise the other’s temperature. He feels his cheeks heat at the thought and ducks his head away from Derek’s gaze.

“I’m guessing you… uh…” Stiles waves his hand vaguely, hoping Derek understands what he means.

Derek cocks an eyebrow at him, but nods curtly and Stiles settles back with an embarrassed blush. They remain quiet for a while, Stiles occasionally petting one of the cubs, they move around a little, finding new places to burrough against him. Stiles uses the silence to look around. They are in a cave. He didn’t know there were caves on his property, from what he had explored of the land, although he hadn’t gone across the river before. There is chest in the corner and some old oil lamps that look pretty familiar. He wonders if Derek got all this stuff from the cabin, it wouldn’t surprise Stiles if he did, since he’s sure he’s seen lamps just like those in the barn.

He’s not mad that Derek took the stuff, he couldn’t care less really, he’s more upset that Derek is living in this cave with these five cubs, hiding and having to live like an animal. He blinks suddenly, glancing back to Derek to find himself being watched again. He doesn’t blame Derek for keeping an eye on him, nor does he blame him for the calculating look he’s getting right now.

“You are actually Derek Hale, right?” He asks, even though Stiles knows it’s him. He watches Derek swallow and run a hand over his bearded chin and then his eyes flash red momentarily and Stiles’ heart thunders in his ears. “Look, I don’t want any trouble okay…I just, I’m from Beacon Hills. I..I think I was a few years behind you in school. I sort of remember you, being like this terrifying senior on the lacrosse team, all huge and big and uh…scary like…and I mean, I got picked on enough freshman year, being as scrawny as I was and the jocks liked to push me into lockers and stuff. Thought it was funny to beat on the Sheriff’s kid, you know, cause I wouldn’t say anything right? Anyway, I just… I remember you.. and I want to help you. I mean you could have killed me already and you haven’t. So I’m taking that as something. You also could have just let that bear eat me or let me drown. Which makes me believe that you’re a good guy beneath the creepy werewolf exterior and all the stalking you’ve been doing, which I get, because I’ve been in your territory, or whatever. But the things is, you’ve had ample opportunity to kill me or let me die and you haven’t. So that, that has to mean something right?” He says, rambling on because he doesn’t know what else to say. Even at 24 Stiles’ filter seems to fail him at times. Derek just stares at him, with a look of what Stiles hopes is shock.

“You can’t live like this man, okay? In a cave, with five cubs… I don’t even want to know what you do for food,” Stiles says, grimacing when he even tries to think about it. But given that Derek looks a little on the thin side. He was also in desperate need of a good grooming and Stiles wonders how did he that before, but he most definitely needs help and at least some way to get back on his feet and stop hiding in the woods.

“How long have you been out here?” Stiles asks and Derek shrugs, looking away down at the dirt, his arms braced on his knees, hands dangling.

“Almost two years, this Spring.” Derek mutters quietly and Stiles lets out a ragged sigh. He’d figured as much, given the time of the fire.

One of the cubs worms out from under Stiles’ arm, the brown one with the dark marks near his eyes and lets out a wide yawn and walks over to Derek. He rubs along Derek’s side, whining quietly and nosing at his fingers from where they are dangling. Derek reaches down and scoops him up into his arms, crossing his legs and depositing the cub there. Stiles watches as Derek stares into the fire, brow furrowed in thought as his fingers roam over the cubs’ body.

The other cubs have started to stir a little more and the little female noses eagerly at Stiles’ hand. Stiles smiles down at her and runs his fingers over her brow and back behind her ears. She makes a pleased little nose that makes Stiles grin.

“Can I ask you something?” Stiles murmurs and glances up at Derek. He doesn’t answer and Stiles is starting to get that he might be more of the silent type, which, yeah okay, Stiles is always good at filling in the silence with talking, always has been. Derek’s eyes slant towards him and he takes that as permission. “What are their names?” He asks, even though he’s sure he knows. He wants Derek to talk, to say anything really, Stiles what he talked about, as long as he talked.

Derek doesn’t answer him for a few minutes, not until the darkest of the cubs gets up and pads over to him, butting against his side and laying down at his feet. It’s as though the cub went to reassure him, because the tension in Derek’s shoulders eases a little and he sighs before glancing down at the cub in his lap.

“This is Scott.” Derek murmurs, fingers stroking over the bridge of Scott’s nose, Stiles watches as his tail thumps against Derek’s leg. “This is Boyd,” Derek says, pointing to Boyd who is at his feet. “The one on your chest is Isaac, the little one by your hip is Jackson and the girl is Erica.” Derek murmurs and Stiles is overwhelmed with how right he was. It’s almost surreal as he tries to take it all in. It would be such a weight off his dad’s shoulders if he knew the missing children were alive.

“How long have I been here?” Stiles asks, suddenly curious with how long it’s been since he’d been in the river.

“A little over a day and a half.” Derek says and that has Stiles sitting up suddenly, accidentally dumping Isaac into his lap. His vision swims and he feels a little nauseous and that has Derek standing and coming to kneel next to him.

“I need to get home.” Stiles says, trying to push the blankets away, looking around for his clothes.

Derek’s hands are warm and rough on his shoulders, keeping him from moving too much. He tries to push back, but Derek’s grip is firm and keeps him in place. “You need to rest. I didn’t pull you out of the river for you to do something stupid again.” Derek mutters.

Stiles slumps a little, because as much as he hates to admit it, Derek is right. He does need to rest. But he also needs to eat and shower and get clothes and not be naked near a ridiculously good-looking- and his brain is not going there. Not right now, not when said possibly good looking man can turn into a wolf and take a huge bite right out of him.

That has him almost recoiling, remembering that Derek is sometimes a large bear sized wolf. A wolf with a sassy attitude, but a wolf. Who stalked him. A lot. His breath hitches and Derek lets go as if burned, like he almost sense Stiles’ sudden fear and maybe he can.

“Stiles, I’m not going to hurt you.” He says and the fact that Derek knows his name, when he obviously hasn’t given it to him just causes his panic to build. Derek definitely hears his heart beating faster as a tightness starts in his chest and his breathing becomes ragged, the beginnings of a panic attack.

“How- how do you-you know my name?” Stiles gasps out, eyes wide as he tries to edge away from Derek and Derek reaches out to grab his legs. The touch is gentle but still has Stiles jerking. Derek tries to pull him closer, but Stiles doesn’t want him to, because he wants to know how Derek knows his name. He knows that Derek is trying to help him calm down, trying to get his breathing to become normal, but his silence is unnerving and making this worse. He can hear the cubs whining in the background and he thinks Derek is growling a little, and Stiles jerks out of his hold when Derek reaches for one of his arms. “How do you know my name!” He shouts and Derek doesn’t recoil from him like he expects.

“You talk to yourself in the woods.” Derek growls out, yanking Stiles against him, so his back is pressed against Derek’s chest. It’s actually really obvious, because Stiles does talk to himself and he knows he’s introduced himself to the cubs before, so it makes a lot of sense.

Stiles can feel the vibration of Derek’s growl through his skin, Derek’s chest is hot against his back, almost unnaturally hot. He can feel the rise and fall of Derek’s breaths. He mimics them as Derek’s arms wind around him and hold him. It’s oddly intimate, but he can’t bring himself to care as he slowly comes down from the panic attack, concentrating on Derek murmuring softly to him. Derek tells him that he’s not going to hurt him, and to keep breathing, and that he’s doing alright, to concentrate on his breathing. This was one of the ways that his dad used to hold him when he had panic attacks when he was younger. He wonders how Derek knew and his brain supplies him with hazy memories of this happening before. Derek pressed against him, murmuring into his ear, being gentle with him.

“You had one last night.” Derek murmurs into his hair as Stiles all but slumps against him, finally calm and able to breath properly.

“Will you let me help you, please?” Stiles whispers weakly, glancing down at where Derek’s arms are wrapped around him, his own hands gripping tightly to Derek’s forearms. “It’s the least I can do. You’ve saved my life twice, let me save yours.”

Derek doesn't answer him for a long time, but his breath is warm against side of Stiles’ face and Stiles can feel Derek’s heart beat through his chest. Stiles wonders how long it’s been since Derek has talked to another person, he has a feeling that the cubs don’t shift often. There is no indication around that they do and that worries him.

“I promise to keep you guys safe.” Stiles whispers when Derek lets him go. He doesn't go far though, only to collect Stiles’ clothes and hand them to him. Stiles takes them and slips them on and watches as Derek goes to kick dirt over the fire. It was beginning to grow dark outside and Derek’s actions are enough of an answer.

Stiles’ clothes are still a bit soggy and wet and he didn't really expect any less, even though Derek had them close to the fire, they are thick and he’d been in the water a while. Derek shifts while Stiles has his back turned and it had taken some coaxing, but the cubs follow them out of the cave. Stiles has no idea where they are, but Derek nudges him along and leads him slowly back towards the river.

It takes a while, but they find somewhere for Stiles to cross and he clings to Derek the entire time, fingers digging into the fur at his shoulder. If Derek minded, he didn’t show it. Stiles finds it surreal still, that the wolf he’d come to feel safe with, despite how creepy he could be, is actually a man. Or well, can shift from a wolf to man. It’s as if he’s been dreaming this whole time, making him wonder if he’ll wake up and find himself back in his huge empty cabin. Was the loneliness finally getting to him? Was he so lost in a new story line for a book that he had begin to hallucinate men turning into wolves?

He’s brought out of his thoughts when Derek stops suddenly, a low growling emitting from him. The cubs all stop and quickly trot back to him. Stiles knows they are close to the cabin and watches as Derek sniffs the air. Stiles does too, even though he knows that Derek’s nose is a hundred times better than his. But he definitely smells it, wood smoke.

“Oh no.” Stiles breathes and starts off in the direction of the house, Derek is after him in an instant, and when Stiles nearly teeters, his head pounding when he gets to the edge of the trees, Derek slides right up against him, supporting him. He looks towards the house and spots two cars that he doesn't recognize. Panic wells up in him and he pushes Derek away from him. “You need to go. I don’t know who they are!” He whispers, pushing at Derek again when he doesn’t budge. Derek whines, but takes a few steps back and Stiles gets down one knee and reaches out to cradle Derek’s face.

“I’ll come find you, okay? I won’t go back on my promise. But I don’t recognize those cars. And while it could be my dad, I’d rather not risk it…okay? So you need to go.” Stiles says and Derek whines again, but licks at Stiles’ wrist and pulls away. As he trots back towards the cubs Stiles calls out to him softly.

“Thank you, for pulling me out of the river.” Derek just inclines his head and disappears into the trees. Stiles gets up, quickly taking the bandage off the back of his head, if it is someone he knows he doesn't need to explain that a werewolf pulled him from the river and bandaged him up in his cave. He hisses in pain and tosses it into the bushes. He levels himself before striding towards his cabin to see who the hell is in his house. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles falls into the river and nearly drowns, but Derek saves him. Stiles has a panic attack, that Derek helps him until he is calm. 
> 
> A few notes on the river. Some rivers have under currents that act as vacuums for water. So it is very plausible that people can get swept up and drown in these currents and this is what is happening to Stiles. I wasn't too clear in how he was being swept under the ice, mainly since it is from his point of view and he's too busy freaking out to even think about the current. Later, in the sequel for this, there will be a chapter that Derek reflects on saving Stiles and more insight to his knowledge of the area and the river itself.


	7. The Truth

He’s not cautious as he runs to his house. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if it’s someone he doesn’t know, or if it’s his older cousin’s looking to come hassle him about ‘fair shares’ and how Stiles shouldn’t have received this land. Shoot first and ask questions later, although he’s not shooting anything.

If anything he’s likely to get himself shot in this case. He doesn’t care, because someone is in his house and he’s got werewolves in his backyard and one of them is seemingly a ridiculously good guy who has been taking care of five wolf cubs by himself and Stiles wants to help. So of course the moment he gets to help something goes wrong, like him falling into a river and then suddenly people being in his house when he just so happens to bring the werewolves back with him. It may sound a little like some stupid fairy tale, or weird teen paranormal romance, but no, this is his life.

He thunders up the steps which have been cleared of snow and throws open the front the door. “Okay, why the fuck are you in my h- Lydia?” Stiles starts to shout and then stops when he sees Lydia standing in his kitchen. Allison sits up from her spot on the couch, startled, her eyes wide.

“Allison?” He says weakly, his voice almost hitching. He lets out a ragged breath as relief floods through him, making him sag against the door. His heart's still pounding and his head hurts like hell from running, his vision swims and he grips the door tightly, trying to stay upright.

“Stiles? Stiles!” Allison says hesitantly, then her tone becomes more urgent and she’s up from the couch, rushing towards him frantically. Lydia is there in a moment too, both of them holding him up and leading him to the couch.

“What happened?” Lydia asks when he sinks into the cushions of the couch. Stiles groans and rubs at his eyes with one hand, the other gripping the arm of the couch to keep himself steady. Lydia is kneeling in front of him and Allison has gone to close the door, but she’s back in front of him now, one hand cupping his cheek.

“Stiles, your clothes are soaked… what happened?” Allison asks softly and he blinks at her. He thinks that running to the cabin had been a severely bad idea, given that the entire time he’d been walking with Derek, he hadn’t felt this bad. Maybe he over did it a little. Or maybe Derek had some weird abilities, or something. Stiles would have to ask him.

He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, so he doesn’t know what he should say. He can’t tell them that he fell through the ice and into the river and a werewolf saved him, who oh by the way happens to be Derek Hale. Allison is checking him over and when she gets a look at the back of his head, carefully cradling his face in her hands she gasps and gently eases his head to the side. His head pounds and his stomach rolls.

“You need to go to a hospital.” She says quickly and Stiles tries, very hard to shove down the feeling of wanting to throw up. “You need stitches.” She says, leaning over him to get a better look at the cut on his head.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to puke. Or dry heave, because there is nothing in my stomach and that will really be unpleasant for all of us. Mainly myself.” Stiles murmurs and Allison thankfully lets go of him. Lydia has been oddly silent and that worries him a little, so he lifts his eyes to look at her and he swallows roughly at the worry in her eyes.

Allison is standing up and gently tugging at his jacket, but Lydia intervenes and brushes Allison’s hands away. “I’ll help him, you get him some dry clothes.” Lydia murmurs and begins to unzip Stiles’ coat as Allison nods and heads for Stiles’ room. Stiles sits there and lets her take his coat off. 

Her fingers are tugging at the bottom of his shirt and he lifts his arms and tries to help her get it off him, but it’s sticking in places. Once his shirt is off he begins to shiver, his whole body shuddering now that his skin is damp from the wet clothes and he’s exposed to the air.

“I never pictured this happening this way.” He says, his teeth chattering a little when Lydia’s hands are unclasping his belt. He can’t help it, taking a jab at her, he’s only doing it to get the worried look out of her eyes. The glare she gives him though, lets him know that he shouldn’t push her buttons. He hasn’t been attracted to Lydia since his junior year of high school and they both know it.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” She asks, pulling him up off the couch and takes a step away from him as he tugs his soaking jeans down. He ignores her in favor of taking the blanket she offers to him and raises an elegant eyebrow at him. He’s not going to answer right away, not until he finds out when they got here. He pulls the blanket around himself and shudders a little. Lydia tilts her head and motions to him,

“Underwear off too.” She says and he tries to gape at her, but his teeth are chattering too much. She at least has the decency to turn around while he shimmies out of his boxers and drops them into the pile of wet clothing. Thank god Allison comes down the stairs at that moment. He takes the clothes from her and carefully pulls on the boxers under the blanket. It’s awkward and both of them look away, saving what is left of his dignity.

“When did you two get here?” He asks and watches the calculating look that Lydia gives him. No doubt he’s going to have to answer for it later. She obviously knows that there is a reason that he hasn’t told them what happened yet.

“This morning, and you weren’t answering your phone, your dad was worried. What happened, Stiles?” Allison says and helps to keep him steady as he tries to pull up the fresh pair of jeans. Right, his phone, he doesn’t even know where that is. He knows he brought it with him out there, but he’s fairly certain it’s not in his coat anymore. It’s probably at the bottom of the river.

“I fell.” He said, pulling on the t-shirt and then the sweater Allison brought down for him, he could kiss her for that, he’s so freaking cold. Lydia lifts one eyebrow, silently telling him to continue and Allison gasps quietly. “I’m fine, I just need some food and water and some rest.” He says waving away Allison’s concern.

“Right, because nearly falling over as soon as you get into the house and looking like you’re going to vomit every time you so much as blink, clearly means you don’t have a concussion. That’s a pretty nice gash on your head and your clothes were soaked through, like you’ve been lying in snow for a while, try again.” Lydia says, crossing her arms, clearly going to put up a fight because she knows Stiles is lying. He’s not lying though, not about falling into the river, just about when he fell. But then again, Stiles has never really been able to lie to Lydia and she knows it.

Allison seems to want to protest, but Lydia shoots her a look and she closes her mouth. “I did fall. Well, slipped actually. I was out early this morning, slipped on some ice, hit my head.” He says and makes sure to keep eye contact with her. He’s not sure if he’s convinced her, but she backs off. Although it might also be because Allison is intervening and coaxing Stiles to sit down, he must look like he’s going to fall over. He feels like he’s going to fall over. He probably shouldn’t have run so hard to get to the house. It’s not really helping his ‘I don’t need to go to the hospital case’.

“We’re getting you something to eat and then we’re going to the hospital.” Allison says and when he opens his mouth to protest Lydia gives him such a menacing look that he clamps his mouth shut, defeated.

“And when that’s over, we’re talking about the monstrosity that you sent me.” She says with a flip of her hair and walks to the kitchen. Stiles lets out a groan and lets his head gingerly rest on the couch.

 

\--

 

When they finally get back to the house some 10 hours later, it’s very late. Lydia goes up to bed, declaring that she’ll deal with Stiles in the morning. Allison goes to bed too and Stiles decides to lay down on the couch and watch some tv. He doesn’t want to go upstairs, up the two flights to his room and the couch is oddly comfortable. He knows, if he’s not going to make it up to his room there is always the spare bedroom off the kitchen. Allison and Lydia had both taken rooms on the second floor, rooms that he was sure were both made up and clean.

He turns the television on low so as to not wake the girls and lays on the couch in a medicated haze. The doctors had stitched him up and given him some strong stuff to take. Then his father had showed up and it had finally taken some coaxing, but a few words with Allison and his dad was convinced that Stiles was well enough to go back up to his cabin.

It’s probably about an hour later, he’s not too sure, but he hears the familiar creak of the last few stairs before the first landing and he glances up to see Allison slowly coming down the stairs. Her body is illuminated by glow of the tv, and she gives him a tired smile, coming over to lean over the back of the couch.

“Mind if I join you?” She asks as she gently rubs over his head, keeping clear of his stitches. He hums happily and pats the spot next to him. He lets out a quiet huff of laughter when she lifts herself over the back of the couch and settles into the open space next to him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks when she rests her head on his shoulder as he drapes the blanket over her legs.

“No. I’m not used to all the quiet I guess.” She says and Stiles nods, knowing the feeling. The first few nights had been eerily quiet and he’d been all alone.

They stay like that for a while, watching television and during a commercial, while Allison is kneading the back of Stiles’ neck with her fingers, she quietly asks him, “Are you ever going to tell me what actually happened?”

Stiles doesn’t panic, he’s too doped up on painkillers to even remotely panic. “I fell.” He murmurs and glances down at his hands.

Allison sighs and drops her hand from the back of his neck. “I’m sure that’s part of it. But I know you’re not telling the whole the truth. I’ve known you long enough to know how accident prone you are, but this wound is more than a day old. I’ve done my fair share of patching you up in the past.” She says, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Stiles sighs, defeated, because he knows it’s true. “I only let it drop because I could tell that there was something you didn’t want Lydia to know. So, I intervened.

“And I love you for that.” Stiles murmurs, reaching out to pat her thigh. He doesn’t say anything further and Allison sags against him, like she’s giving up, but Stiles knows she’s not. He wants to tell her, he just doesn’t know how.

Stiles stays silent for a little while longer, unsure of how to even begin this conversation, but after a few more moments of silence he just lets it out. “What do you know about werewolves?” Stiles blurts and notes the way that Allison stiffens next to him.

“Stiles, how much hydrocodone did you take?” Allison asks cautiously and Stiles shakes his head, which makes him wince.

“I’m, hey- not that much!” He says turning slightly to look at her. She side eyes him wearily, like she doesn’t believe him, or like where this conversation is going. He’s guessing it’s more of the latter. “I’m being entirely serious…I know about your aunt…what she did.” He says and pauses to look at her. Her eyes are wide and he can almost see her bolting so he continues quickly. “They live in the woods, Derek Hale and five cubs, the five missing children.” He adds quickly.

“Stiles…” She says, shaking her head and he reaches out to grab her hand.

“Allison, I swear to you, I’m not making this up.” He whispers, squeezing her hand. She swallows and shakes her head, her free hand coming up to run through her hair.

It takes a little while, she extracts her hand from his and lets out a sigh, rubbing her hands over her face. She pulls out her phone, glancing at him and playing with it a little, like she’s going to message someone, but given the time, she must decide not to, because she sighs and puts it on the coffee table.

“My family…” She starts off and then pauses, biting her lip and glancing back at her phone. “My father’s family are hunters” She says quietly. “And I don’t mean hunting deer or anything, they hunt werewolves.”

“Like the Winchesters?” Stiles blurts, blinking a little, trying to grasp that her family hunts people. Of course his mind would go to Supernatural. Allison merely rolls her eyes at him.

“Sort of.” She says, shaking her head and starts playing with the hem of the blanket, not looking at him. “My father, he’s not- he doesn’t hunt anymore. He hasn’t, not since mom died. Do you remember when that happened?” She says softly, sniffing quietly .

Stiles does, it had been during their sophomore year of High School. Victoria Argent had always been a fierce woman and she terrified the hell out of him for years. Eventually he’d become a soft spot of hers as one of Allison’s best friends and he’d go as far as to say she was almost like a second mother to him. Which is why her death hit him hard, having lost his own mother just four years previously, it was like a kick to the stomach when Victoria died.

“How could I forget Al.” He says softly, reaching out to grab her hand again. She squeezes it tightly and reaches up with her other to rub at her eyes. He notices now that there are tears pooling at the corners.

“I’ve never been able to tell anyone this Stiles and believe me when I say I’ve wanted to very badly. Do you know how hard it was to keep this from you, from Lydia, for so long and not be able to tell you the truth? You both deserved to know, she loved you both like you were her own children, in her own way…” Allison says, sniffing softly and Stiles swallows the lump in his throat. He’s not really sure where this is going, but he’s got a feeling it’s not going to be good.

“She didn’t kill herself.” Allison says and he watches the way that she sags a little when she says it, like it’s a weight off her shoulders. It probably is, since it’s been almost ten years. “They were on a hunting trip…she was, she was bitten…” Allison says, pausing for a few minutes, letting go of Stiles’ hands when she raised them to her eyes and lets out a choked, bitter laugh. “Gerard, my grandfather, gave them the choice…like she was some sort of _animal_.” Allison whispers, her tone cutting, bitter, and full of hate. He flinches a little and she shakes her head, swallowing. “So on the night of the next full moon, my dad… he helped her and together…” She says and cuts off quickly, letting out a quivering sigh. He rests his hand on her knee to let her know that she doesn't have to continue to say it, because he knows how it ends.

“I hate Gerard.” Allison says with such a fierceness that he almost recoils. “My Aunt too, that’s why they were never around. My father cut off from them. But a few years ago Kate showed up. My dad thought, he didn't know. Stiles, I swear to you he didn't know what she was planning.” Allison whispers, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. 

Stiles feels sick, because he knows. He knows in his gut that Kate was the reason for the fire. He swallows roughly and looks away. “Fuck…” he murmurs, running his hand over his mouth. He doesn't know what else to say other than that.

“He tried, he tried to get there in time…but it was too late. They were…the house was already up in flames, there was nothing we could do…” She says miserably with a shake of her head, tears finally spilling over. Stiles tugs her forward and lets her cry quietly into his shoulder. She pulls away, sniffing and wiping at her eyes a few minutes later. “We had an agreement with them, the Hales I mean. Sort of like a treaty. Even though he wasn't hunting anymore he still kept up with hunters, making sure none of them came to Beacon Hills looking for trouble. We were on good terms with the family, my dad and Talia, Derek’s mother, would meet up occasionally, keep each other informed. The Hales were a good family, one of the best Packs on the west coast. They never hurt humans, they were good people. Some people of that family were human.” Allison says, looking away again.

Stiles doesn't know what to say, but he glances out the window and thinks of Derek and the cubs. “I was on the river. I didn't know it until it was too late, the ice cracked under me…he saved me Allison. I owe him for that. I can’t let him live out there for the rest of his life.” Stiles says and Allison eyes widen and she nods.

“You- you said something about children? Those little ones, that everyone thinks died, they’re alive?” She whispers, her hands clutching tightly at the blankets again.

Stiles nods and wishes he had his phone to show her some of the photos he’d taken of the cubs. But his phone was currently at the bottom of the river. “Yeah, I think there is something wrong though, as if they can’t shift back to human. Derek can though…I don’t know…” He says, shrugging, because he really doesn't know what is wrong with the cubs.

“I want to help, please Stiles, you have to let me help.” Allison whispers with such determination that he can’t say no.

“Yeah, okay.” He says softly and arranges them on the couch so that Allison is positioned between him and the back of the couch, her head resting on his chest. They talk for a little while longer, Stiles asking her questions and filling in things he’s always sort of been curious about with her family. Like her dad’s gun collection under lock and key in the garage and the family vacations they would randomly take. It makes a little more sense now. Allison falls asleep soon after that, warm and solid against his side, it’s nice. He starts to doze as well and the one thing that keeps niggling at him before he finally falls asleep is wondering what Derek’s reaction will be to Allison wanting to help.

 

 

 

 


	8. Interlude 2: Isaac

It’s been almost two days since Stiles hurried Derek away from the cabin, unsure of who was in his house. Two days of Derek worrying and pacing at the edge of the tree line, making sure to keep his distance from the house and stay in the shadows.

It was obvious though, that Stiles knew who they were and they just weren’t leaving. When Stiles had shoved him away and told him go, Derek had gone, but only so far. He’d stuck close in case anything should happen and Stiles needed him. Watching him nearly fall over into the house had not been easy to watch.

All Derek had wanted to do was run to him and help him. The entire trip from the cave to the cabin Derek had been leeching Stiles’ pain away, making it so his head was clearer and he wasn’t in as much pain. But once he’d stopped touching Derek, all that would have come back eventually.

Derek had watched as two young women came out of the house, holding Stiles up, he was dressed in fresh clothes and bundled in a new jacket and they were bringing him to the larger of the vehicles. Derek had heard them arguing about a hospital and Stiles refusing and saying he didn’t need to go, that he was fine. But a few words from the red-headed girl and he was sighing and getting in the car.

He had waited and waited for the car to come back. Pacing in the snow, unable to do anything but that. He’d hunted for the cubs, watched with disinterest as they played in the snow and tore apart the rabbits he’d caught.

Now it’s been two days since then and both mornings he’s hunted for the cubs and himself and then gone to the cabin, making sure the cubs stay near the cave. He’s been laying in the same spot now for a few hours, head on his paws, watching the cabin from under a pine tree, well hidden by other brush.

He hears the door to the cabin open and his ears perk, his head lifts and he watches as the two women walk out. They’ve got bags with them and Stiles helps them put them in their cars. Derek feels excitement and relief flood through his body because if they are leaving it means he can finally talk to Stiles.

The cars pull away from the cabin and head down the long driveway and out of sight. Stiles stands on the porch, seeing them off. Even from his spot hidden in the trees Derek can see that Stiles is radiating nervous energy. A few moments later he darts into the house.

Derek stands and waits for Stiles to come out and he doesn’t disappoint, within moments Stiles is flinging himself out the cabin door, pulling on his coat and gloves and hurrying towards the trees. Derek shakes the snow off his coat and pads towards the edge of the trees to meet Stiles. He lets out a bark when Stiles starts heading off in a different direction, away from him.

Stiles jumps and lets out a yelp of surprise and flailing slightly and nearly tripping over himself when Derek barks at him and comes into view. Stiles huffs out a nervous laugh and grabs at his chest. “Christ dude, don’t do that!” Stiles says, laughing.

Derek walks up to him, ears lowered and tail wagging slightly. Stiles grins at him and rubs at the back of his head. His slightly pained inhale and wince make Derek let out a low whine and he steps forward to press against Stile’s other hand. Stiles’ fingers dig into the spots behind his ears hesitantly and Derek hums happily, snuffling into Stiles’ coat.

He picks up different scents, both female, one lavender and ink and paper and then the other more familiar, more vanilla with an underlying hint of gun oil and wolfs bane. It’s old, so old and faded that it’s barely there, but it’s still there, lingering and under the surface. It smells so frighteningly familiar that Derek recoils from Stiles with a growl. His mind supplies him with flashes of blonde hair and Kate’ predatory smile.

He blinks, feeling his skin ripple as he tries to hold his shift in place and Stiles is talking at him, but he doesn’t hear anything other than the echoing screams of his family.

“Derek?” Stiles says, taking a step forward and Derek snarls at him. He wonders why Stiles smells like a hunter, why he smells like Kate. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Stiles says, his voice hitching slightly when Derek snarls again.

Stiles backs up, his hands in the air, backing off. Derek can’t think anything past the fact that Stiles smells like them and he thinks of the cubs, who he left alone. Panic rushes through him and he starts to back away. Stiles is pale and reeks of fear and Derek shoves down the guilt that he feels for making Stiles feel this way.

He turns around and starts running towards the cave, because he has to be sure the cubs are safe. He’d seen the women leaving, but if they are hunters or if there are hunters around the cubs won’t be safe and he doesn’t know what he’d do if something ever happened to them.

Hearing Stiles shouting after him makes him cringe and he turns once to see him following and stops to snarl at him. When Stiles doesn’t stop, continues to come forward Derek lunges at him, snapping. He makes sure not to catch anything, because he doesn’t want to hurt Stiles. He just doesn’t know why Stiles smells the way he does and he needs to get to the cubs now.

Stiles startles back with a surprised yelp and falls to the ground, hard. “Son of a bitch.” Stiles whispers furiously and glares up at Derek. “You’re being a right bastard you know that!” Stiles shouts as Derek is turning on his heel and running away. “I’m only trying to help you!” He hears Stiles call after him as sprints away.

He skids to a halt just before the cave, listening intently and sniffing the air. Nothing smells off and he can hear the cubs playing together inside. When he trots to the opening he’s relieved to see that they are all there, safe and sound. He’s panting heavily, his chest heaving from running and Isaac is the first to notice his presence.

Isaac lets out a happy yip at the sight of him, his body language happy and excited but when he gets closer, noticing Derek’s own body language, scenting his fear and his panic, Isaac’s ears droop. His tail lowers and he lets out a whine, coming up to rubs against Derek’s legs. The other cubs take notice immediately and all come to crowd around him.

Derek lets out a sigh, his whole body shuddering as he exhales and leans down to press his muzzle into the soft fur of Isaac’s belly. He inhales sharply, letting the scent of them, of pack and earth and home settle over him to calm him. The others rub against his legs, whining softly, getting up high as they can to brush against his belly or lick at his face, trying to calm him. Isaac shuffles to the side to rub against his front leg as Scott leans in, practically head butting him in the jaw to rub their cheeks together. He whines and licks at Derek’s muzzle and then flops down, showing his belly for Derek.

Derek flops down, dust rising around him and presses his face into the soft fur of Scott’s belly and snuffles into it, letting Scott wrap around him. Jackson tucks himself against Derek’s stomach, burrowing his face into the longer fur there, Erica presses in right against Jackson and Body presses against him, laying his head on Derek’s flank. Isaac plants himself right in the space between Derek’s front legs, shoving his face into the fur of Derek’s mane.

He calms down with the cubs pressed against him, breathing in their scents and letting them comfort him. His ears are trained on everything and he’s not satisfied that they are entirely safe. He’s going to have to find somewhere else for them to stay now that Stiles knows where the cave is. But for the moment he lets himself have this small moment before he begins searching for a new safe place for him and the cubs.

 

\--

 

It’s been a two weeks since Derek had smelled a hunter’s scent on Stiles and so far there had to be anyone looking for them. Well, besides Stiles. Stiles had been out every day that first week, looking for them, calling for Derek and the cubs. Derek had warned the cubs with soft nips and growls not to go when they caught Stiles’ scent or when he called to them.

That first night he’d gone back to the first Den they’d used when they first come to this area, it was smaller than the cave and not really ideal for him to live in as a human, but it would do until he found something else. He’d taken almost everything from the cave that he could and stashed them in areas around the forest.

Stiles eventually found the cave on his third day of looking for them. Derek had expected him to find it sooner; it was why he’d moved the cubs so quickly. But then again Stiles’ mind had been foggy the entire time Derek had led him back to the cabin after he'd fallen through the ice. Derek had been sure that Stiles would be able to recall there whereabouts of their cave sooner than he had.

Derek had been on his way back to the cave to get some more things to stash when he’d heard Stiles talking quietly to himself. He was about fifty feet from the cave itself, but he could hear Stiles stumbling around it perfectly fine. Derek ducked behind a tree, fully shifted in his human form and listened.

“Dammit. Where are you Derek?” Stiles whispered and it sounded like he was kicking at the dirt. He had listened to Stiles talk to himself and call for them for hours before the young man had given up once it began to grow dark.

After the fifth day of Stiles looking for them, starting early in the morning and not leaving the forest until dark, he’d stopped looking all together. Derek couldn’t say he was grateful, but he was glad he didn’t have to keep moving the cubs when he thought Stiles was getting to close to finding them.

He was so sure that trusting Stiles was a good idea. That maybe he’d finally be able to live as a human again and let the cubs grow up as kids and not as wolves. Maybe they could go back to school and live their lives as happy children and not scared wolf cubs too afraid to shift back into their human form.

As much as he wanted that for them, deep down in his gut he had a sickening feeling that they’d been shifted far too long. Those first weeks with Laura they’d made sure the kids had shifted back to human every couple of days. But eventually they grew too scared, once Laura and Derek realized they were being tracked by hunters.

Derek knew that all born werewolf children could hold their shift for days easily. It was easy for them to slip and out into. But also easier for them to lose themselves. He feared that’s what happened with all of them, that they were too young to stay shifted as long as they had and it stuck. It made him feel sick and the guilt of knowing he caused them to end up like this was stifling.

It was why as soon as he’d smelled the slightest hint of a hunter on Stiles that he’d run. He couldn’t even fathom getting close to Stiles and allowing him to help if Stiles was friends with a hunter. He just couldn’t allow that. What if one day while Stiles was away or not at home that friend decided to kill Derek and the cubs without a second thought.

Derek shakes his head, running his hands through his hair and glances over at the sleeping pile of cubs. They are piled on top of each other, fur slightly damp from wandering around outside. The weather had been terrible all day, freezing rain in the morning that made a layer of slick ice over the snow. Despite it giving everything a glass0like beauty when it froze, it had made them all slip and slid, even when they dug into the ground with their nails.

Isaac had slid right out onto the river and Derek had almost been too slow to save him from going under the ice. He’d dragged the soaking wet and shivering cub out of the water and carried him back to their new den to warm him up, deciding that hunting was over for the morning.

Derek had shifted back to his human form and dried him off as best he could, but his blankets could only do much to help. The cubs had crowded around Isaac as soon as Derek put him down, comforting him and then all plopped into a pile to sleep and that’s how they were now. Still sleeping soundly, although Isaac’s breathing had started to become ragged.

Derek knows it’s not a good sign and it worries him. The cubs have never been sick before, well not sick like fevers and the chills, like Isaac is now. Their werewolf immune system has always kept them from becoming ill.

When Isaac lets out a pitiful whine, his small chest heaving, gulping in large breaths, Derek scrambles over to him and carefully picks him out of the pile. The others blink wearily at him, Erica whining softly at him. Derek cradles Isaac against his chest, his nose is dry and his ears are hot. Eric snuffles against his thigh, whimpering and Derek reaches down to rub at her ears. “It’s okay, he’s going to be fine.” Derek whispers, settling down to let the cubs crawl into his lap while he rubs at Isaac’s chest, trying to help him breathe easier.

A day later Isaac isn’t better, he’s worse. Derek’s been trying to feed him small scraps of meat, but he won’t take them. Keep pushing his muzzle away and blinking in and out of sleep. His breathing has become shallower and Derek knows that if he doesn’t get help soon, Isaac may not make it through the night.

He knows he has to get to Stiles, even if there is the possible threat of hunters. He can deal with that if it comes to it, but right now all he’s concern about is getting Isaac better. So he wraps Isaac in one of the blankets, scoops him up close to his chest and makes sure the rest of the cubs are following close as he heads out for the cabin.

When he hits the edge of the trees he almost hesitates but Isaac lets out a tiny whimper, his entire body giving a weak shudder and Derek feels his heart clench. He has no choice, his panic and fear of hunters be damned. He’s got to get Isaac help.

He jogs to the porch, calling out Stiles’ name as he goes and pounds on the door, the cubs running at his heels. “Stiles!” he shouts, fist banging against the wood.

When Stiles opens the door, relief floods through Derek’s entire body, and his shoulders sag. Stiles’ eyes are wide in surprise and he honestly looks like he’s seen better days. His hair is all over the place, his eyes are blood shot and he hasn’t shaved in a few days, but Derek is so pleased that he’s even opened the door that he could cry in relief 

“Derek…” Stiles says softly, his body tenses and his mouth thins. Derek can sense the anger and confusion starting to roll off him.

“I need your help. It’s Isaac… he’s sick.” Derek says, looking down at the cub who is currently breathing shallowly in his arms. “We need to get to Dr. Deaton, in Beacon Hills.” Derek says.

For one terrifying moment Derek thinks that Stiles is going to close the door in his face and tell him to get the hell off his porch. But Stiles glances at Isaac with a worried frown and nods. “Let me get my keys.” He says and turns away from the door. Derek lets out the breath he’d been holding and waits for Stiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I've been busy with work and commissions. Hopefully the next chapters will come out once a week!


	9. The Vet

Stiles has about a million and one questions when he opens his door to find Derek standing there. But he doesn’t open his mouth to ask, one look at Derek’s panic ridden face, his heaving chest and Isaac’s small little furred body in his arms has Stiles turning away to grab his things. He quickly throws on a coat, tugs on his boots, grabs his new phone and keys and locks up the house.

When he pulls open the door to his Jeep, Derek is piling the last of the cubs into the back and Stiles tries to hold back the wince at the thought of his seats getting ruined by little werewolf claws. Just one glance at the trembling bundle in the front seat tells him to shove it and he starts the car. Derek lifts up Isaac and swings into the front seat easily and Stiles tries not to stare because Derek’s only wearing a pair of jeans. Stiles resists the urge to shake his head, because he’s got to turn around slightly to back his car up and hope he doesn’t hit the snow bank behind him. But it’s winter and Derek must have some crazy werewolf body temperature to be able to be outside with so little clothing.

He leans a little into Derek’s space without really meaning to as he cranes his neck to look out the back and he knows his heart is pounding right now. He wonders if Derek can hear it and that only makes his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He tries to shove it away and glances down at the cubs who are sprawled over his back seat and the floor. Scott gives him an almost pitiful look, ears laid back as he tries to stay balanced on the seat.

Stiles turns away then, having backed up enough to turn now and throws the gear shift into 1st to start down the driveway. The Jeep lurches a little, since there is still snow and ice on his driveway and he glances in the mirror to look back as the cubs roll a bit, jostling with every movement. “If they puke in my car you’re cleaning it up.” Stiles says and it comes out more harsh then he means it to.

He glances at Derek who is holding tightly to Isaac with one hand, the other steadying himself on the door handle, his body is tense and he’s sweating a little. He’s in desperate need of a haircut and a beard trimming. Derek just glances at him nervously out of the corner of his eye and nods grimly. Stiles tries not to focus on that. Actually, he tries very hard not to focus on Derek at all and keep his concentration on the road.

He lasts maybe ten minutes not thinking about Derek or anything with this whole situation. He thinks back to earlier in the week when Allison and Lydia had finally left the cabin and he’d been able to finally get back out to the forest to find Derek. He had wanted to find them and bring them home with him. Sure it was kind of weird, but he’d been buzzing with nervous energy ever since they had announced they were leaving. Allison knew why, knew that he was going into the forest to look for Derek and maybe being him back home. Lydia though, she just thought he was anxious to get her out of his hair. This was true, since as soon as they arrived back from the hospital she had slammed his manuscript down on the coffee table and proceeded to rip him a new one. He tries not think about it, since even the thinking of his manuscript gives him a headache.

What he really wants to know though, is why Derek ran away from him. The moment Stiles got near him, practically radiating excitement and happiness, Derek had pressed up against him, looking almost relieved and happy. But then everything had gone horribly wrong. Derek had reacted very badly, like nearly taking Stiles’ arm off very badly. He remembers those large teeth being very close to his skin. It makes fear spike low in his belly at the thought and he tries to shove it away because he doesn’t want to be afraid of Derek.

Although knowing that Derek can go from rubbing up against him to suddenly crazy eyes, flashing his fangs and snapping his jaws is slightly terrifying. Derek shifts a little in the car, making Isaac whine and Stiles glances over, watching as Derek’s nostrils flare. Stiles grips the wheel a little tighter and stamps down the sudden fear that comes along with thinking about the possibility of Derek attacking him.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Derek says so very softly. It doesn’t have Stiles relaxing though. Knowing what Derek is capable of, actually he really doesn’t. But he’s seen those teeth and those claws and has seen just how fast Derek can move, so really, it’s not comforting. Also, small enclosed space, he could probably reach across the gap between the two of them and easily rip Stiles’ throat out if he wanted to.

The words echo in his head, because it’s actually the same thing Derek said to him when he was having his panic attack in the cave. He remembers the feel of Derek’s hands on him and the warmth of his body. Stiles swallows thickly and tries to shove those thoughts away since he doesn’t really want to think about being pressed up against Derek’s naked chest.

“Right.” Stiles says, trying very hard not let his voice crack. He’s unsuccessful. He keeps his eyes focused on the road and tries not to glance at Derek too much. Another thing he’s unsuccessful at. Stiles thinks back to earlier this week, because everything that has happened since he’d left Derek at the edge of the woods that day has been a giant cluster fuck.

Going into the woods to find Derek had been on his mind the entire time the girls had been there. He hadn’t expected things to go south once he’d finally found Derek. To have Derek suddenly turn on him. He’d let Derek go though, unsure of what he’d done, he hadn’t wanted to upset the werewolf any more than he had.

Stiles had spent the first two days looking for the wolves. On the first day he’d gone to the cave, only to find that they were no longer there. Most of Derek’s things were gone. It had snowed that night and all tracks around the cave had been filled in. So Stiles had a hard time tracking them. The second day he canvassed the area, looking for Derek and the cubs, but he didn’t find them. He’d even sat outside the cave, waiting and hoping for Derek to come back.

The third day he’d called Allison because he had no idea what to do. She had put her father on the phone, explaining to Stiles that she told him about Derek and the children and while Stiles was a little miffed, more than little, but that wasn’t the point then. The point was he needed help, he needed to know what he’d done so he could fix it. So that he could help Derek get his life back.

Chris had wanted details on the interaction and had been silent for a few minutes before asking Allison if she had taken his SUV up to Stiles’ cabin. She had, it was what they used to get Stiles to the hospital since Lydia’s rental was only a two seater and Allison couldn‘t drive standard. From what Chris had explained to Stiles was that Derek may have caught the scent of something in Chris’ car. Despite him no longer being in the business of hunting werewolves, scents like that lingered.

Stiles had shakily asked if Kate had used the vehicle before she died, before the fire. Chris had said that she had and hearing that had made Stiles’ stomach drop. Chris had mentioned that if Derek was scared he’d move the den, to keep the cubs safe. But if he figured out that Stiles didn’t mean any harm to him, then he might seek him out and to give him time. But Stiles had been warned that if Derek went any more north, there was no saying what would happen to him. He’s glad to know that Derek didn’t head up north and really hopes that he doesn’t plan to.

Stiles swallows thickly and glances over at Derek again, watching briefly as he rubs at Isaac’s ears. “What’s wrong with him?” Stiles asks softly, unable to help himself. He’s grown to love the cubs and if anything were to happen to any of them he doesn’t know what he’d do.

Derek glances up at him briefly, eyes dark and unsure. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a sick werewolf before.” Derek murmurs and Stiles’ eyes widen slightly.

“What? You guys don’t get colds?” Stiles says and Derek shakes his head. “Seriously, well damn. Sign me up.” Stiles says, laughing softly, trying to ease some of the tension.

“You don’t want this, believe me.” Derek says, after his face pinches and his body tenses slightly. Stiles winces and swallows loudly again. Derek glances over his shoulder, looking at the cubs in the back who have settled somewhat and are starting to doze. “To not trust people, to worry about hunters. To have to run. To have people be afraid of you.” Derek says softly.

“I’m not afraid of you Derek.” Stiles says softly and Derek snorts softly, fingers running through Isaac’s fur, as if it comforts him.

“Yes you are.” Derek murmurs, shifting a little in his seat and Stiles glances at him, watching as he leans his head against the window. Isaac whines at the disruption but Derek soothes his fingers over the bridge of his nose and he quiets.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles says after a couple miles of silence. What he really wants to say is ‘I meant it as a joke, I’m sorry for being a dick.’ But he can’t get the rest of the words out, knowing that really means ‘I’m sorry for being scared of you’.

“Me too.” Derek murmurs and Stiles doesn’t know if Derek is sorry for calling Stiles out on his bluff or if he too is sorry for Stiles being scared of him.

\--

With an hour left and finally in a cell service area, Stiles digs out his phone and calls Deaton’s office. “Hi, this is Stiles Stilinski, is Dr. Deaton in?” Stiles asks, casting a glance at Derek, who cracks open one eye to look at him. Stiles had thought he’d been dozing, but apparently not.

The receptionist gets Deaton and a few seconds later Stiles hears an exasperated voice on the other end. “I’m with a patient, Stiles.” Deaton says.

“And you’re going to have another in about 45 minutes if the roads aren’t too bad in town.” Stiles says, casting a glance at Derek. He asks with his eyes if it’s okay to tell Deaton and Derek seems to guess that and gives a short nod. At Derek trusts Deaton, although he doubts they’d be going there if he didn’t.

“Will I?” Deaton says, sounding equal parts annoyed and amused.

“Yes. Name’s Isaac, tawny fur, bright blue eyes.” Stiles says and he can hear Deaton’s sharp inhale through the phone.

“Stiles…” Deaton murmurs, his tone wary with a slight edge to it.

“I’m not messing with you.” Stiles murmurs and holds the phone out to Derek. It takes Derek a minute, to shift Isaac slightly and take the phone.

“Alan, I need help.” Derek says and Stiles glances at Derek as he talks to Deaton, explains the situation briefly and in clipped words. Derek Hale everyone, ever so eloquent. Seemingly he ends the conversation with a quick, “I’ll explain later,” handing the phone back to Stiles to take.

“Yeah?” he says into the phone and he hears Deaton swear softly on the other end, muttering something about werewolves and Derek being incompetent, which really, rude. Derek is sitting right there. Stiles peeks at him, but Derek doesn’t seem to care what Deaton has to say, or maybe he does, given the way his cheeks turn a little pink, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Park around the back when you get here. The back door will be open, I’ll be sending my assistant home shortly.” Deaton says and then hangs up.

“Huh.” Stiles says and swipes his thumb over the screen to lock his phone. He gives another glance at Derek who has settled with his head against the window again. “We should only be about another hour,” Stiles murmurs and Derek nods, closing his eyes.

\--

They pull into town just as it’s getting dark, which is good because he really doesn’t need anyone seeing that he’s got Derek in his front seat. What with him being presumed living in New York or something. Well, if anyone could really tell it is Derek, since the hair and the beard. The over all mountain man appearance in general really. Also, shirtless.

While is father knows of him being bisexual and has met some of his boyfriends, he still doesn’t know how to explain a half naked man in his front seat. Also wolf cubs, five of them, one sick and the others passed out in his car. He parks the Jeep in the back like Deaton told him to and Derek is unbuckling himself immediately and hopping out of the car.

“Hey, wait a sec. What about them?” Stiles says just as Derek’s about to close the passenger side door with his free hand. Derek casts a glance into the back seat to get a look at the cubs, Erica has stirred and so has Scott but other than that they make no effort to move.

“They’ll be fine for now.” Derek says, closing the door and Stiles gets out quickly to follow him.

They go in through the back door and Derek pauses a moment to lift his head and sniff at the air, Stiles assumes he’s sniffing out Deaton, which is weird. Stiles cant get over the thick scent of cleaning supplies and hospital and cat litter. He wonders if it’s like ten times worse for Derek. It probably is.

Derek eases open one of the exam room doors and they find Deaton standing there. He turns with a look of surprise on his face, eyes raking over Derek as they move into the room. He motions for Derek to put Isaac down on the exam table and Stiles can see Derek hesitate, but it does it.

“Derek, you look different.” Deaton says and Stiles tries to hold in his snort, because that is definitely the understatement of the century. Stiles remembers what Derek looked like before. Chiseled cheekbones, shorter hair that was always styled up in the front, less of a beard. “Stiles, you seem to have gotten yourself into an unusual situation here, although from what I remember of your high school days, this is nothing new.” Deaton says with a smile as he leans over Isaac.

“Can’t disappoint people now Doc,” Stiles says with a grin and shoves his hands into his pockets. He glances over at Derek who is looking down at Isaac with a frown.

“Well, let’s see what’s wrong, shall we?” Deaton says and turns away to grab a couple tools. He checks Isaac’s eyes, his chest and takes his temperature. Isaac lets out a pitiful whine that has Stiles’ heart clenching. He gets a little closer to the table as Derek holds out his knuckles and lets Isaac lick them and Stiles gently touches his tail. “How long since he’s shifted?” Deaton asks softly, listening to Isaac’s heartbeat.

“A while. They wont shift back…” Derek says quietly, mouth turning down into a frown.

“They?” Deaton says, his head snapping up, eyes widening. “Do you mean it’s not just you and Isaac? You have the other children with you?” Deaton says and Stiles feel his heart beating a little faster. Derek shoots Stiles an odd look, but nods. “They’re alive?”

“Yes.” Derek says softly after a few moments hesitation. “Scott, Vernon, Erica and Jackson.” Derek murmurs and Deaton nods, looking shocked. He shakes his head though and looks down at Isaac.

“His fever is high, I’ll need to give him some mediation and put an IV of fluids into him. In the mean time, Stiles why don’t you take Derek to get cleaned up and get some fresh clothes. I’ll need to look at my books, maybe make a few calls. Are you sure he didn’t eat anything he wasn’t supposed to? Monkshood or Mountain Ash flowers?”

Derek frowns deeply, scowling at the table. Stiles knows that both of them grow on the property, because his uncle had documented them. “I don’t know. They’re usually good about staying away from them…” Derek murmurs, reaching out to touch Isaac’s head.

“They grow there though, my uncle documented them, but it’s winter, how could he have eaten them?” Stiles asks, a frown covering his own face.

“He could have eaten the remains, twigs or dead leaves, cubs are curious. And if they’ve been shifted for a while, there is a chance that their wolf instincts are becoming more animalistic, more primal. They are thinking more like wolf cubs than actual children.” Deaton says and Stiles watches as Derek’s entire body seems to sag and his face closes off that those words. It’s not something he needs to hear right now and both Stiles and Deaton know it, but Deaton has always been known to jab at a sensitive situation when he shouldn’t.

“Would it sill affect him like this, if he had?” Stiles asks, since Derek doesn’t seem like he’s going to be including himself in the conversation anymore.

“Yes, monkshood and mountain ash are poisonous to werewolves in any form. I’m going to need to pump his stomach, just in case there was a chance that he did eat them.” Deaton says and Derek nods silently, staring down at Isaac still.

It unnerves Stiles how upset Derek looks. Almost like he blames himself for this happening and he shouldn’t. He has five cubs to watch over, he can’t keep an eye on every single one of them. Although, if he’s honest he kind of figured that out of any of the cubs to eat something they shouldn’t have he would have put all his money on Scott, since he’s the most flighty of all the cubs.

“We’ll let you get to work then.” Stiles says and wants to lay a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder, but he doesn’t know how Derek will react. “Derek.” Stiles says softly, making Derek look up at him and nod. Stiles watches as Derek leans down and presses his lips to the top of Isaac’s head and then pulls away from the cub.

“If anything-” Derek starts and Deaton nods with a sympathetic smile.

“I’ll call Stiles, don’t worry.” Deaton says softly and Derek nods again and Stiles leads him out to the back of the building.

“My dad should be working all day today, so we should be able to have enough time to let you get cleaned up.” Stiles says and Derek nods as they head to the Jeep. Derek swings open the door and gets in and immediately turns to the cubs in the back seat. Stiles watches as he lifts himself up into his seat as Derek touches all of them and lets out a ragged sigh. “He’s going to be okay.” Stiles murmurs, while he waits and lets Derek reassure himself by touching the cubs and making sure they’re alright.

Erica whines, brushing herself against Derek’s arm and he picks her up and brings her close, cradling her against his chest. He presses his face into the fur of her belly as she wriggles and snuffs against him. Stiles realizes then that out of all of them, Erica might be the most upset besides Derek about Isaac, given that they are half siblings.

Derek settles into the seat with Erica cradled against him, holding onto her tightly and Stiles reaches over to gently rub at one of her ears, and she turns her head to lick at his fingers. Stiles thinks he sees a hint of a sad smile on Derek’s face but it’s hidden by Erica’s fur.

They don’t even make it down to the first stop light before his phone is ringing and he hastily digs it out of his jacket pocket. Derek is tense in the passenger seat, gripping Erica tightly and Stiles glances at him when he sees it’s Deaton’s number.

“Yeah?” He says as he presses the answer button and holds it up to his ear.

“Get back here,” Deaton says and Stiles doesn’t think twice before dropping the phone onto his lap, checking quickly for traffic and doing a u-turn to gun it back to the vet’s office. Derek doesn’t even wait until Stiles has parked before he’s dumping Erica in the back with the others and getting out of the car to book it into the office. Stiles follows him, scrambling out as fast as he can. Derek’s already inside by the time Stiles even makes it to the door.

He runs to the room they were in early and skids to a stop in the doorway, watching as Derek lets out a choked sound and sways a little before his knees give out and he’s cradling a small body to his chest. Stiles’ heart thumps in his chest at the sight and looks at Deaton with wide eyes when Derek makes another broken sound. It’s not a wolf cub on the table anymore, but a pale, skinny little boy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said questions would be answered in this, but I got my chapters mixed up. But I can say that questions will be answered by the time the fic is finished. Not everything can be covered in one chapter!
> 
> Also, feel free to check out my tumblr. (cutewolfboys.tumblr.com), my ask is usually always open so you can drop me a line or ask me stuff. I've also got quite a collection of Winter's Edge fanart there too, so you guys can see what the cubs actually look like. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support, every kudo and comment mean a lot to me, if I could thank each and everyone of you, believe me, I would! <3


	10. Halcyon

Stiles stares at Derek who is still kneeling on the floor, his arms stretched out and holding onto Isaac. Their foreheads are pressed together and Derek looks and sounds like he’s crying. Stiles doesn’t really blame him. For all he really knows at this point, from just standing in the doorway and not saying anything is that Isaac could be dead.

But given the way that Deaton is gently taking hold of one Isaac’s arms and inserting an IV, Stiles doubts it. “What happened?” Stiles asks, finally finding his voice. Deaton glances up at him once he’s finished inserting the IV and reaches out to gently pet Isaac’s mop of curls.

“The fever was too much for his body to handle, making him weak. He shifted back without any prompting. I still need to understand where it’s coming from though.” Deaton says and glances down at Derek who has lifted his head, and yeah, definitely crying.

Derek nods as he stands, rubbing one hand over his face, seeming reluctant to let go with the other hand. Stiles steps into the room and he doesn’t miss the way that Derek’s eyes flash red, but he winces and gives Stiles a sad smile.

“Sorry.” Derek murmurs, his voice rough as he looks down at Isaac. “Do you- do think he’ll be alright?” Derek asks and Deaton sighs as he lays a sheet over Isaac’s lower half.

“I’m not sure exactly, his fever is very high. I would say he may need to go to a hospital, but I don’t know if he’ll shift again and there is no one there that will understand anymore.” Deaton says softly. Stiles watches as something akin to anguish filters across Derek’s face and Stiles recalls that Derek’s aunt, Scott’s mother Melissa, was a nurse there. 

“Will he be okay here?” Stiles asks because Derek doesn’t. 

“Of course, I’ll be closing for the day, I already called to reschedule appointments for a few days and referred my patient’s owners to another vet if they needed anything.” Derek nods and lifts himself up. 

“Thank you.” Derek murmurs, his hand hovering over Isaac’s head. “I can... I’ll be able to pay you for this..” 

“That won’t be necessary Derek, I’m happy to help.” Deaton says quietly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder. Stiles watches hesitantly, thinking that Derek is going to growl and pull away, but he doesn’t, instead he seems to sag under the weight of it and nods silently. 

Derek lets out a ragged sigh and turns to look at Stiles, swallowing roughly when Deaton removes his hand and turns away to focus his attention on Isaac. 

“Do you still want to go to my place to get cleaned up?” Stiles asks, because he’s learning that Derek isn’t much of a talker. Derek’s brow furrows and he glances back down at Isaac and to Deaton and then back at Stiles. 

“Go. I promise to call with any updates. I do want to check on the others later, you said you have them with you?” Deaton says and Stiles nods. 

“Yeah, they’re currently in my Jeep, hopefully not destroying anything.” He says with a small pained smile. Derek rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch and that’s what Stiles was going for. He drags a hand through his hair and waits for Derek to move, not wanting to rush him. Derek looks down at Isaac one more time, makes eye contact with Deaton who nods and Derek nods in return and then turns to walk out. Stiles follows silently behind him. 

When they get to the Jeep, Derek forgoes the front and climbs right over the console into the back. Stiles watches for a moment in the mirror as he buckles himself in, but feels like he’s intruding on something private as Derek gathers the cubs into his lap, letting them curl around him. 

The drive to his house doesn’t take very long and he feels sort of detached from everything, considering a wolf cub just changed into a little boy, he’s fairly certain he’s got a right to be feeling a little out of it. He gets out of his Jeep and kind of just stands there, his keys feel like weights in his hands and he watches as Derek noses at Scott’s neck before placing him down on the seat with the others. 

He climbs out of the Jeep and glances up at Stiles. “They going to be okay in there? I don’t think I should bring them into the house.” He says and Derek looks at the cubs before nodding. 

“They’ll be fine.” Derek says and slowly trails after Stiles up to the porch. He unlocks the door and steps aside to let Derek in. 

“I’m hoping some of the clothes I’ve got here still will fit you. Bathroom’s up here.” Stiles says as he kicks off his shoes and winces when he remembers that Derek is barefoot. The cold doesn’t seem to bother him, and hopes that maybe they are the same size so he can get him a pair of shoes or something.

He closes the front door behind them and Derek hovers next to him before Stiles leads him up the stairs. He nudges open the bathroom door, flicking on the light and leans against the doorjamb. “Might need a few minutes for the hot water to kick in, the towels are in that cabinet, new razors in the bottom drawer, feel free to use whatever. My room is right down the hall, I’ll leave my door open and put out clean clothes on the bed.” Stiles says and Derek nods again and walks slowly into the bathroom. 

He looks a little hesitant and the silence is practically eating away at him, but Stiles nods, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks at watching Derek gently run his hands along the marble sink counter. He wonders how long it’s been since Derek has used a shower or a real bathroom and clears his throat, startling Derek slightly into turning to look at him. 

“I’ll uh... leave you to it, if you don’t need anything else at the moment.” Sitles says and Derek shakes his head. 

“No, thank you.” Derek says and Stiles nods, swallowing roughly before grabbing the door and closing it with a soft click, his heart pounding in his ears. 

He sighs and lets himself rest against the wall, telling himself that he’s not listening for the sound of Derek’s clothes hitting the floor or the creak of the dials being turned, the sputtering hiss of the water as it shoots out of the shower head. That would be creepy and Derek probably knows he’s still there, so he shoves himself away from the bathroom and goes to his room, letting his brain turn on auto pilot as he shuffles through his drawers to find something for Derek to wear. 

He’s a little broader than Stiles in the shoulder area, but he thinks that Derek might fit into some of his more well used college clothes. He sets out a pair of jeans and a pair of sweats, unsure of what Derek will actually fit into and what he’d want to wear. 

His thoughts are so jumbled right now he doesn't know what to think because everything is coming at him all at once, the fact that he's helping a werewolf, that werewolves actually exist. That a little boy had just shifted from being a wolf and that the local vet knows all about this. He knows that it shouldn't be a lot to take in, since his initial freak out over the whole thing had been after he'd nearly drowned in the lake and he'd spent an hour in the shower the morning after telling Allison, freaking out. 

He needs something to do, something with his hands and he makes his way down to the kitchen to see what they have to eat. The fridge is nearly empty save condiments, milk and some take out boxes that he'll have to talk to his dad about. But at least it looks like there are some fruits and vegetables in the bottom drawers. He checks the freezer finds some turkey burgers and decides to pull those out. He's pretty sure Derek is going to be a while and the burgers will be thawed by then. 

"I wonder if he can even stomach cooked food anymore." Stiles mumbles to himself as he looks through the cabinets, pulling things out. He's just about to pull some things out to make some sort of pasta dish, because you can't go wrong with pasta and he has no doubt that Derek is going to be hungry after all this, when he thinks of the cubs in his car. They've been in there for almost four hours now and he really doesn't want anything to happen to his back seat. 

Stiles peeks out the back window, into the backyard and gets an idea. With a quirk of his lips he tugs on his boots and heads out to his car, opening the driver door and peeks into the back. The cubs are sprawled out on the back seat, Boyd opens one eye lazily and Erica rolls to her side, ears pricking forward. Stiles snorts softly when he sees Jackson chewing one of Scott's ears who seems to be too preoccupied with licking his own toes to notice.

"How would you guys like to stretch your legs and get out of here for a bit, hmm?" He says with a smile and claps his hands. They just stare at him. He wriggles his eyebrows and they just, well they just continue to stare at him. "Work with me guys, come on." Stiles mutters and plucks Erica up from the seat since she's closest to him. She lets out a little yelp of surprise, but lets Stiles' hold her. He gathers Jackson next and Boyd and Scott seem to get the hint and slip off the seat. He hesitates in putting Erica and Jackson down on the ground because out of all of them, they are the two likely to bolt on him. Erica because she'll think it's a game and Jackson because he'll want to hide. But Boyd and Scott are a little bigger than rest, being older and they easily jump out of the Jeep and to the ground. 

Stiles closes the door to the Jeep and hopes that none of his neighbors are watching him. Although from a distance the cubs could just look like oddly colored shepherds rather than wolf cubs. He's not taking any chances and quickly herds Boyd and Scott to the gate that leads to their yard.

Both of them are crowding around his legs, sniffing the air with interest, but look a little hesitant to go further than the safety of his legs. Jackson seems content to stay in Stiles’ arms with his paws hanging over Stiles’ shoulder. Eric wriggles a little, licking at his chin and he sets her down and when he goes to set Jackson down, he whines softly, so Stiles just crouches, rubbing a hand along his back.

Erica is the first to leave Stiles’ side and then Scott, who brushes up against his leg and then starts to sniff around at the dying grass. The snow that Beacon Hills had when Stiles was last here had all melted already. Boyd soon followed after Scott and soon the only one left near him was Jackson. 

“You want to get down?” Stiles asks, jostling him a little and Jackson noses at his chin, and Stiles sighs, shifts him and holds him gently over the ground. “I mean, look how much fun Scott is having.” Stiles says and Jackson wiggles a little and Stiles takes that as Jackson wants to get down. So he places him on the ground and watches him run after Scott who is currently happily rubbing against the base of one of the trees. 

Satisfied that the cubs will be okay, watching as Erica stalks after Jackson and pounces, he heads back into the house and to the kitchen. The shower is still running, but he’s not about to pressure Derek into hurrying. So to keep himself busy he takes time preparing food. It’s always been a thing for him, to cook when he’s trying to keep his mind off of things. Like Derek Hale currently occupying his shower. 

It’s not too long later when the shower shuts off, but it takes another twenty minutes for Derek to emerge. And when he does, well the difference is somewhat staggering. He hesitantly steps into the kitchen, hovering a little and Stiles has his back to him, because Derek clears his throat and Stiles whirls around from checking the pasta and Derek is just standing there, looking like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“Oh, uh.... wow.” Stiles manages to get out dumbly. He swallows and feels his cheeks heat, because yeah sure he knew what Derek looked like, but that was before. Now he’s clean shaven, his hair is cut shorter, no longer curling around his temples in wavy tendrils and he looks, well saying he looks good is a massive understatement. Stiles clears his throat and looks away from Derek’s piercing gaze, quickly turning away from him and back to the stove to stir the pasta. 

“So, the clothes fit then?” Stiles says, biting his lip as he leans over to grab the spatula and flip the burgers. 

“Yes," Derek says softly and his voice is much closer, making Stiles jump. He’s right there suddenly, next to him and leaning over him slightly to sniff at what Stiles is making. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat and well... I just kind of made stuff.” Stiles says, waving the spatula a little in his hand. “These just went on, but I don’t know how you’ll be able to process cooked food...” Stiles says, frowning down at the stove. 

“I’ll be fine.” Derek murmurs and steps away, then glances outside at the yard. It’s starting to get dark and Stiles wonders if he should be bringing the cubs in, but then again he doesn’t really want to. His dad isn’t allergic, but he does notice things, he’s not the Sheriff for nothing. So trying to explain why there is a mess of dog hair everywhere has him vetoing his own idea. 

“I let them out there.. I didn’t think keeping them cooped up in the Jeep all day would be good. The whole yard is fenced in and they’ll uh, they’ll be alright out there.” Stiles says and glances out the window, watching as the cubs tussle with each other. 

He and Derek both watch for a few minutes, the kitchen silent save for the bubbling water and the sizzle of the burgers in the frying pan. He has so many questions he wants to ask Derek, but he knows that right now is not the right time. Hell, he doesn’t even know when the right time would be. He also needs to call his dad and tell him he’s here and figure out if him and Derek are staying the night. 

That is going to be one hell of a conversation with his father, that much is for sure. He can’t just be like “Hey dad, Derek Hale is spending the night at our house.” That would just, no. Just no. He shakes his head with a soft sigh and takes off two burgers, knowing they aren’t cooked all the way through but at least warm and put them on a plate for Derek, and lets his own continue to cook. 

“They’re turkey burgers, dad’s on a no red meat diet, at least that’s what I like to tell myself.” Stiles says as he slides the plate over to Derek then takes the pot holders to pour the pasta out into the colander. 

Stiles serves up some pasta in a bowl and hands it to Derek, indicating he can add sauce if he wants to and Derek gingerly takes the bowl from him and scoops a general helping of red sauce into his bowl. Stiles can feel a small smile slide onto his face and scoops himself out some pasta. 

“After we eat we can go to back to the clinic.” He says and Derek nods, taking one of the forks Stiles had left on the counter and going over to sit at the table. Stiles tries not to watch, but can’t help but peek over and watch as Derek stabs at some of the pasta and brings it to his mouth. 

Derek closes his eyes for a second and chews slowly, as if savoring it and Stiles is mildly surprised that he’s not shoveling into his face. He also has surprisingly nice table manners for a guy who has been living in the woods for almost two years. 

Stiles flips his burgers onto his plate, flicks off the stove and grabs his fork and puts his stuff on the counter. “Do you want anything to drink?” He asks, and can’t help grin when Derek looks up at him with slightly wide hazel eyes. He nods and Stiles goes to the fridge to see what his dad has. It’s not much, milk and orange juice and then there’s tap water. “Do you want milk, or orange juice? Sorry, I didn’t think to go shopping before we came here, hence the uh... odd selection of food.”

“Can I have milk?” Derek asks quietly and Stiles nods, grabs the carton, checks the date just in case, it’s got a few more days and grabs two cups to pour himself a glass and one for Derek. When Stiles sets the glass down in front of Derek, he kind of zones out a little, fingers gingerly roaming over the side of the glass, looking at it as like it’s something precious. Stiles ducks his head and digs into his food, trying not to stare a Derek drinks his milk. 

When he looks back up, half the glass is gone and Derek has this little content smile on his face and is scooping another helping of his pasta into his mouth. Stiles tries to shove down the utter joy at seeing that little smile on Derek’s face, knowing that he helped put it there. That he’s helping this man, giving him back his humanity.

\--  
It doesn’t take long for them to eat and Stiles tries to hide the small smile on his face when Derek goes to get seconds. He’s pretty sure he fails when he notices the tips of Derek’s ears turning red. 

Derek goes outside while Stiles puts the dishes in the dishwasher and pulls out his phone to call his dad. He tries the station first and when his dad doesn’t pick up, he tries his cell phone. Thankfully he picks up. “Hey kiddo.” His dad says and Stiles can hear the sound of traffic in the background. 

“Hey Dad, you on your way home?” Stiles asks, trying to shove down the panic. He’s leaning against the doorframe of the back door watching Derek and notices the way his body goes rigid half way through bending down to pick up Jackson at Stiles’ words. 

“Nope, I’m actually on my way over to the conference right now.” The sheriff says and at Stiles’ silence he sighs across the line and continues. “We talked about this three days ago, jeez kid, where has your head been lately?” The sheriff says softly and Stiles tries not to wince. 

“Sorry, I forgot. Um, just lost in book stuff.” he says, watching as Derek seems to visibly relax as he hoists Jackson up into his arms. He swallows roughly and runs a hand through his hair, turning away from the door as Derek goes after Erica, trying to get her. “How is it going?” He asks, vaguely recalling the conversation he had with his dad three days ago. He remembers his dad mentioning the conference but not when it was or how long he’d be. His head had been muddled with the realization that werewolves were real and trying to understand why Derek had reacted the way he had. 

“It’s going well. Ramirez and Bishop came along, there are a couple panels we’re interested in. But uh, any reason for your call, not that I’m happy to hear from you..” his dad says and Stiles lets a small smile slide across his lips. 

“No, no. Just in town, at the house actually. I uh, yeah, forgot.” Stiles murmurs as he makes his way up the stairs to his old room, throwing open the closet to check out a couple of the old pairs of sneakers he’s got in there. One of them has to fit Derek, he’s sure of that. He grabs the cleanest looking pair. 

“Oh well, there isn’t much in the fridge. You staying the night?” John asks as Stiles makes his way back down the stairs.

“Not sure yet. But probably, I hate making that trip in the dark, you know that." Stiles says, glancing up as Derek slips in through the front door, closing it softly behind him. Stiles gives him a quick smile and holds out the shoes to him. Derek frowns, but takes them and Stiles motions for him to put them on.

"Yes, yes I know. Well, we're almost there, so I'm going to let you go, night bud." John says. 

"Night dad." Stiles says, hanging up quickly. When he looks back at Derek he finds that Derek has slipped on the sneakers and it's really weird to see him dressed completely and not all mountain man like. "Shoes fit then?" He says and Derek nods. "Great, well we can go now and uh, we can stay the night here if you'd like, my dad won't be home and it'll be easier than driving back north only to come have to come back if something happens with Isaac." Stiles says, tugging on his boots. 

Derek only nods silently, waiting as Stiles pulls on his coat, grabs his keys and heads back out to the Jeep with him. When the cold air hits Stiles as he closed the door behind him and turns to lock it he pauses and looks to where Derek is standing at the bottom of the steps. “Do you want a jacket?” He asks and Derek looks up, eyebrows raised in question. 

Derek shakes his head, brow furrowing slightly. "Werewolves run warmer than humans." Derek says and now it's Stiles' turn to raise his eyebrows. 

He doesn't question though, instead he shrugs as if to say alright and locks the door and then hops down the steps to follow Derek to the Jeep. They both get inside and Stiles pulls out of the driveway to drive to Deaton's. When they get to office Derek gets out and hesitates a little, glancing back at the cubs in the back seat. 

"Should we bring them in?" Stiles asks and Derek frowns, looking thoughtful. He glances back at the office and then to the back seat and nods silently. Stiles nods and pulls the lever on his seat and reaches in the back to grab two of the cubs. Derek does the same and picks up Boyd and Jackson, so Stiles hauls Erica and Scott into his arms. 

"We're back!" Stiles calls into the hall as Derek closes the door silently behind them. Deaton appears from the doorway where he was keeping Isaac and motions them towards him. Stiles pauses when they get to the doorway unsure if they should bring the cubs in there. He looks around over his shoulder at Derek who seems to be having the same thoughts. 

"I don't think we should keep them with Isaac, when he wakes it may upset him or confuse him and possibly cause him to shift back immediately." Deaton says and leads them to the exam room across the hall. Stiles and Derek both follow slowly and they place the cubs on the table. Scott licks at Stiles' ear before Stiles puts him down and they all sort of huddle together, trying to get close to Derek or himself. 

He realizes that they are nervous and he gently runs his fingers over Erica's back to calm her while Derek lets out a deep hum that Stiles can practically feel in his entire being. The cubs calm almost immediately and Deaton gives Derek a somewhat impressed look. 

"They all look healthy." Deaton says as he gently picks up Boyd who is the calmest of all of them. “A little smaller than I expected them to be, but they may have a growth spurt in the spring, bringing them to about the size of a shepherd.” Deaton says and Stiles internally winces for the future of his Jeep if he’s going to be carting these guys around. 

They are about the size of cocker spaniels right now but if they get any bigger Stiles is definitely going to need something else if they’ll be making trips down to Beacon Hills with them. He glances up at Derek to find his brow furrowed and his face impassive as he takes in the information Deaton gives out on each cub, how Scott seems to be doing well, Erica is losing her milk teeth and Jackson seems to be a little small, but then again he always was. 

“You said they wont shift?” Deaton says softly, once he’s done checking them all. Derek nods silently, his eyes cutting to Stiles for a moment before he looks down at them, rubbing one of Erica’s ears. 

“No. I’ve tried. I do try-” He says, his voice becoming thick. Stiles watches his throat bob as he swallows and wonders if he should stay for this or if Derek wants to be alone with Deaton to tell him. He catches Derek’s eye and sees the desperation in them and Stiles gives a small encouraging nod for him to continue. “It’s been months. Scott was the last one to shift for me...he stayed human for maybe a couple of hours. He just wanted to shift back, but I made him stay human. He hasn’t shifted since.”

“That’s interesting.” Deaton says softly, glancing down at Scott. “I don't want to force them, but I’d like to see how Isaac handles being human before we even decide to try and get them to shift, alright?” Deaton says and Derek nods, almost hollowly. Stiles can tell that he’s far away in his own head. 

“What do you mean how Isaac handles being human?” Stiles says quietly. 

“Ah, I forget you’ve just learned about werewolves.” Deaton says with a restrained smile. “If a werewolf stays shifted for a long period of time, there is a chance that they become more tuned in with that animal part of their brain, making them act and think more like a wolf than a human.”

“So you’re saying that Isaac could be feral when he wakes up?” Stiles says with a frown. 

“Something like that, confused as to why he’s human. He may not be able to speak, or remember certain things. If we can get him to stay human for 24 hours without him trying to shift back he may be able to shift regularly, if he gets a stable environment and doesn’t return to the woods. It will take time, but it’s possible.” Deaton says, leveling Derek with a significant look. 

“They’re staying with me.” Stiles says and Deaton raises his eyebrows in surprise, glancing over at Derek. Stiles looks back to see a matching look of surprise on Derek’s face. Stiles knows that he and Derek had talked briefly about it in the cave. But then Derek disappeared and Stiles tried to find him. He knows Derek probably knows that last part, but Stiles isn’t going go back on his word just because Derek freaked out. He still doesn’t know why, but he has a feeling it may have had to do with Allison and Lydia. “You’re staying with me.” Stiles says firmly, making sure to keep eye contact with him. Despite his knowledge that you should never look a dominant animal or in this case a dominant alpha werewolf in the eye, because it’s like a challenge, Stiles does exactly that. 

He’s challenging Derek to back down, to walk away from this if he wants to. He does have a choice here, but if it’s possible to give Isaac a steady environment filled with human things or returning to the woods where he will undoubtedly remain a wolf for the rest of his life, Stiles thinks he knows what Derek might choose. There is a chance that Derek can get at least one member of his family back right now and maybe eventually the others will follow. Dread pools in the pit of his stomach as Derek stares at him, brilliant hazel eyes that seem to be a mosaic of colors. 

But eventually Derek gives one brief, curt nod and Stiles feel something akin to hope blossom in his chest.

\--

They decide to bring the cubs back to Stiles’ place, Deaton promising and reassuring Derek over and over again that he will call if anything happens. He’s staying the night, not wanting to leave Isaac alone and wanting to monitor his progress. Deaton had asked to put a ring of Bog Oak around Isaac to ground him, and Stiles has a feeling he’s going to have to read up on a lot of medicinal herbs and things to do with magic. 

He can’t say he doesn’t mind, because it’s all very interesting, but it’s still a little overwhelming because hey, werewolves are real. Magic, at least in some cases is real. He wonders if vampires and other creatures of the night are real. Not something he should probably ask Derek though. 

Derek had been quiet since they left the clinic, even inside he’d been quiet and Stiles almost misses it when Derek asks quietly if Stiles will take a right at the light instead of staying straight and continuing to his house. 

“Uh yeah, sure.” He says softly, tapping the brake a little to ease his turn. He flicks on his high beams and he catches sight of a sign indicating the Beacon Hills Reserve is about two miles away. He swallows a little roughly, suddenly anxious. He’s grown up in Beacon Hills his entire life, he’s trespassed on reserve property before as a teenager with Allison, Lydia and Danny so he knows what’s over there. “Are you sure about this?” Stiles says softly, because he doesn’t think that Derek has been back there since the fire and it’s not... well, there’s really nothing left. He doesn’t think Derek deserves, or should, deal with that today. But then again Stiles is seeming to see a pattern in the way Derek acts, like he doesn’t think he deserves good things, like he’s trussed up in a guilt laden straight jacket. 

“Yes.” Derek says quietly, almost hissing it out. Bust one glance at him and Stiles could see the white knuckled grip he had on his jeans. Stiles kept his eyes on the road, trying to keep his heart from slamming against his chest. 

When they pull up to the gravel road that leads to the house Stiles slows a little, trying to gauge Derek’s reaction, but he just sits silently in the passenger seat. The cubs don’t seem to register where they are and Stiles doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. 

Stiles stops about fifty feet from the house, putting the Jeep into park. Stiles could barely see the house from their spot, given how it was dark outside, but he knew Derek could by his stuttered inhale. 

It’s not actually a house anymore, more of charred remains of the foundation, part of the porch left behind, a shell of a house. Derek shakily gets out of the car and his distress must have been noticeable to the cubs because they began to whine in the back seat. Stiles let his hands rest on the steering wheel, watching Derek as he made his way up towards the house. 

When he feels a something rub against his arm he glances down to see Scott standing with his paws on the center compartment with his ears pricked forward, whining softly. Stiles reaches his right arm around, shifting slightly so that he can scratch the top of Scott’s head. “It’s okay bud,” Stiles murmurs, trying to reassure himself more than Scott. 

Derek is out there for maybe ten minutes and Stiles has lost sight of him, but Scott seemed to be tracking him, ear flicking and looking around through the front windshield as he stood in the passenger seat. The others were looking out the windows of the back, Jackson whining quietly with his nose pressed against the glass. Maybe they did remember. 

When Erica lets out a little growl, Stiles frowns and turns around, there are lights coming up the road behind them that stop a bit of distance away. Stiles feels his mouth go dry and his heart isslamming against his chest again because it’s not a police cruiser. It’s bigger, darker, and very much like Allison’s dad’s car. 

“Oh shit.” He whispers, quickly clicking his seat belt and flinging himself out of the Jeep. Stiles sees Derek’s red eyes before he can make out the shape of his body. He’s not human, not entirely, his face is shifted into something different, half animal half human. Prominent brow, nose wrinkled in a snarl, sharp fangs, it’s somehow more frightening than him as huge wolf. 

Derek snarls, his hands, no his claws, are curled and he storms passed Stiles to stand near the back of the Jeep, growls reverberating out of his chest. Stiles inhales sharply, frozen as he watches two silhouettes emerge from the SUV and come to a stop just in front of their car, keeping their distance. Stiles’ eyes adjust to the light and he can make out Chris and Allison Argent. 

“Derek, stop.” He finds himself whispering, stepping forward but Derek turns slightly, snarling loudly and Stiles flinches away, eyes wide and heart pounding at the anger in Derek’s eyes. 

“Derek.” Chris says quietly, his tone soft and almost comforting. Stiles closes his eyes, having grown up with Chris he knows this could go any which way. He hopes Chris is going for calming, he really hopes. When he opens his eyes again Derek is facing them again and Chris is holding out his hands in a peaceful manner. “We’re unarmed, I promise.” Chris says and Allison’s eyes dart to Stiles. He swallows roughly and nods at her, unsure of whether or not he should even open his mouth or move. Standing still seems like a profoundly good idea at the moment.  
“Why are you here?” Derek growls out, his words clipped and a bit more guttural than usual. Stiles is honestly surprised he can talk around the fangs. 

“We have sensors set up to let us know when something larger than deer comes across the property to keep an eye on it.” Chris says and Stiles’ eyes widen because Allison hadn’t mentioned that. He looks at her and she actually looks a little guilty, like she knew and that’s a conversation for another time because Derek’s growling has become louder and his whole body sort of vibrates. Stiles can almost make out the fur on his arms and face lengthening and his muscles rippling like he’s trying to hold back turning. 

“Like you kept an eye on it when your sister locked my family inside and burned the house down around them?” Derek snarls, his body coiling as if he were ready to attack. 

Panic bubbles up from his stomach and he feels physically ill. His fingers tremble as he watches Chris take a confident step forward. He tries to tell himself to relax, but Derek’s growling only increases in volume. Chris has dealt with werewolves before, Stiles knows this, but he’s not sure what is going through Derek’s head. 

“I swear to you Derek, I didn’t know what her and Gerard were planning. I’ve been out of hunting since he made me kill my wife.” Chris says softly. Derek doesn’t relax at those words, but his growling lessons. Stiles vaguely recalls something about being able to hear a lie through a heartbeat. “Once I realized...it was too late.” Chris whispers. 

“We’ve kept up with the agreement your mother made with us,” Allison says quietly, taking a step forward although not as confidently as her fathers. Chris places a hand on her shoulder and Stiles almost wishes he was able to have someone grounding him right now because this is all happening too fast. Derek glances over at him briefly and Stiles thinks for maybe he’s worried because of the way his heart is hammering against rib-cage and there is no doubt Derek can hear it. “We keep an eye on the Hale property, keep hunters away.” 

Derek snarls and it’s a broken sound, more anguish and pain than anger and his body shakes a little and Stiles realizes he’s trying to say something, but he’s trying too hard to hold himself in his partial shift. Stiles’ thoughts ricochet against his skull, images and forms flashing before his eyes before he blurts out Laura’s name. 

“What about when Laura died?” Stiles asks, recalling how she was shot. Chris’ lips thin when Derek lets out a pitiful whine. 

“They wanted to finish what they started.” Chris spits out, his words harsh and angered. “Peter woke up, starting killing people who were responsible and I knew it was him. Gerard and Kate thought he was the alpha, didn’t think Laura was old enough for it to be passed on to her, they went after him. Peter killed Kate, he was mad with grief and let almost feral. Once Gerard realized he wasn’t the alpha he killed him. Laura must have known something was amiss because she showed up a couple of weeks later. Gerard and his men hunted her but not to kill her, the same reason they hunted Peter, thinking he was the alpha. Gerard was dying and he wanted the bite to cure him. He planned on killing Laura after to take her alpha powers. When Laura refused, threatening to take her own life before she’d ever bite him he put two wolfsbane bullets in her to subdue her. She was dead within minutes, one nicked her heart.” Chris says his words bitter and angry at first and slowly trailing off with sadness. 

Derek makes a broken sound and Stiles can hear the cubs in the back of the Jeep whining quietly. “Gerard?” Derek manages to ask around his fangs, his chest heaving. 

“Dead. I shot him myself after I learned what he did.” Chris said and Stiles is honestly quite shocked by that. Derek seems to be too, because he lets out a sigh and his entire body sags until he’s on his knees. 

“Woah, Derek!” Stiles whispers, jerking forward to catch him and when he gets his arms around Derek’s shoulders and hauls him upright. He’s shifted back to human and there are tears in his eyes but he looks so relieved like something has lifted from his shoulders but he also looks like something has been cut out of his chest. Chris and Allison had lurched forward too and Chris is crouching in front of them. 

When Chris reaches out one hand to clasp Derek’s shoulder, Stiles thinks he’s nuts and he may lose his hand. It’s enough to make Stiles jerk a little, his hold on Derek’s shirt slipping when he realizes how close he himself is to Derek. He’s not going to lie and say he’s not scared of Derek, not after seeing what he just saw. 

“I’d like to help,” Chris says and looks up frowning when there are low growls coming from the Jeep. 

“Dad...”Allison gasps, one hand on Chris’ shoulder, the other up hovering over her mouth, her eyes wide. Stiles glances at the Jeep and he can make out the shimmering glow of eerie blue and gold eyes, white teeth bared in little snarls. 

“In anyway we can...” Chris trails off quietly, squeezing Derek’s shoulder as his eyes widen at the sight of the cubs in the back of Stiles’ Jeep. Derek only nods and slumps a little further against Stiles as Chris lets go and the snarling stops. Stiles lets out a broken sigh and lets his knees give out, hitting the cold hard ground with a thud, letting the panic and fear rush out of him as the air exits his lungs. Derek drops his head onto Stiles' shoulder. He’s going to have so much to deal with soon, he hopes he’s prepared for it all.

"We're going to need the all help we can get." Stiles says and Derek lets out a small huff against his throat. Yeah, he's definitely going to need some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this story, but it doesn't stop here! As you can see I've made Winter's Edge part of a series. Originally between this chapter and the next there was supposed to be a four month gap. But I couldn't justify suddenly diving into the start of Stiles' and Derek's relationship. For me this story wasn't about them getting together, it was about building trust and Stiles getting to the bottom of what happened to the Hales and trying to help Derek. He did that, so this story is finished. However, I always planned on them getting together, so how their relationship blossoms and the outcome of the Pack and Isaac becoming a little boy will all be dealt with in the sequel(s) and I hope you decide to follow me there. 
> 
> I'm sorry if this turned out to be a disappointment with not getting to the relationship, but I needed to end it here because it didn't sit right with me to go further. If you'd like to follow me on tumblr my teen wolf side blog is cutewolfboys, feel free to drop me an ask any time, my box is always open!
> 
> Chapter title taken from Ellie Goulding's album Halcyon, I often relate this story with her song 'Anything Could Happen'.
> 
>    
> EDIT: January 2017: It's been years. _Years._ I have a sequel started, I dont know if I'll ever get around to finishing it. I've re-written it multiple times and I'm never happy with it. I know that may disappoint some of you, and I'm sorry about that.

**Author's Note:**

>   _I do not give permission for this work to be posted on third party websites such as Goodreads, as it is meant for private enjoyment of the reader and not to be broadcasted and/or posted on any other site other than this account on AO3, or my tumblr._


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